I 






FOR HOME AND FRIENDS 



CHEERY 




Class _^6\££.a7 



Book : 

Copyright N°_ 



1243 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



NEW POEMS 



AND 



GLAD OUTINGS 



ILL US T R A TED 



BY 

JOHN J. SNOOK 
author of 

Centennial Trip in Rhyme, Soldiers and 
Southern Mountains, Water: Its Prop- 
erties, Peculiarities and Para- 
doxes, Good Will Tokens 
and California Trip. 



Published by the Author 
Rochester, Mich. 
1907 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 

Two Copies Received 

JUL 20 I90f 

Cepyn*ht Entry 

QIASS let XXc, No. 

copy y. / 



. 



W v M ^ 

H 6 7 



Copyright, 1907 by John J. Snook 

AIvI, RIGHTS RESERVED 



DETROIT 

REX B. CI^ARK CO., PRINTERS AND BINDERS 
I27-I29 WOODWARD AVE. 






A HUNDRED 
f> SPRIGHTLY 

POEMS 



DEDICATED 



TO THOSE WHO SEE GOOD IN THE WORLD 
AND WISH FOR MORE. 



CONTENTS 

A Balanced Life 219 

A Boy on Guard 36 

A Cat-a-Story 114 

A Dilemma 3S 

A Frog-Like Dive 33 

A Manly Man 13 

A Million Sparkles Ill 

A New Song 230 

Angel Thought 51 

A Runaway Outing 204 

A Smile and a Promise 48 

A Timid Poem 17 

A Wedding Wish 34 

Balanced Rocks 49 

Beauties of Horticulture 55 

Beauty and Utility 123 

Berries 31 

Berry Pickers 42 

Between Two Years 171 

Birthday Surprise 140 

Bitter Sweet 23 

Bobbing Up Serenely 87 

Bread and Butter 52 

Charm of the Hills 12 

Cherry Tree and Hatchet 157 

Childhood 25 



INDEX 

Chronic Critics 86 

Church Unity 240 

Colored Stars 41 

Come and Gone 250 

Contrast 18 

Cuckoo Clock 238 

Dear Home 16 

Ding Dong Musings 46 

Energy and Sunbeams 16 

Excuses 242 

Farewell, Dear Friend 253 

Farm Home 162 

Farming No. 2 200 

Flags and Mountains 207 

Flowers and Children 117 

Friendship 32 

Gold-Fish 151 

Golden Trios 170 

Good Old-Fashioned Winters 127 

Good Morning 195 

Good Will..... 141 

Goose Quills, Good Night 93 

Great Gifts , 35 

Hand in Hand 120 

Happy Home Songs 197 

Heart Sunshine 143 

Helpful Days 147 

How the Mind Grows . , 112 

How to Tell a Woman's Age 19 

Impossible 18b 

In Blossom Time 186 

Ink Charms 232 

June Sunrise 206 

Kiss or Car 131 

Lights Then and Now 40 



INDEX 

Lincoln 15 

Little Children and Spring Birds 212 

Living Pictures 53 

Lookout Mountain 88 

Love, Charity, Good-Will 191 

Mackinac Island 148 

Make a Contrast 163 

Memory's Echo Mountain 210 

Merry Christmas 39 

Michigan Agricultural College 129 

Mountains 113 

Music in Dishes 216 

Must Correspond 202 

My Book's Future ." 190 

My Gay Baby Dress 121 

My Grandfather's Pioneer Chain 142 

Neatness and Dispatch 85 

New Year Calls in New York 234 

New Year Wish 82 

No "Home" Without Love 84 

Nutting Party 198 

Old Glory 165 

Once in a While 56 

Our Basement Window 24 

Our Two Story House Plant 58 

Our Own Sweet Thoughts 83 

Our Little Colonel 116 

Overlook Boulevard 57 

Overlook 130 

Pancake Time 21 

Photographs 196 

Pioneer Memory Pictures 220 

Politeness 139 

Quiet Rest 45 

Queen and Crescent 144 



INDEX 

Rain Drops 3? 

Reading Aloud • • 14 

Rural Freedom 213 

Short Year - 60 

Silver Day 205 

Snow Storm 115 

Stars and Stripes 233 

Success 27 

Sunday School Teachers 211 

Sure of Spring 20 

Tau Rho Sigma 84 

Thanksgiving 218 

That Pioneer Fence 250 

The Academy 251 

The Aut(not)tomobile 152 

The Centennial Trip in Rhyme 61 

The Country School Teacher 243 

The Dear Old Folks 164 

The Eastern Star 209 

The Farmers' Club 132 

The Farmers' Institute 235 

"The Grand Army of the Republic" 192 

The Hudson 160 

The Jolly Pioneer 136 

Two Little Friends 119 

The Little Word We Say 128 

The Looking Glass 20 

The Meanest Thing 239 

"The Missing Link" 23 

The Months of the Year 248 

The Old Water Mill , 150 

The Old Violin 122 

The One Hundredth 166 



INDEX 

The Other Fellow 30 

The Peach is Queen 215 

The Pocket-Book 214 

The Poem Tree 29 

The Rocking Swing Chair 175 

The Rural Trolley 158 

The Sunday School 135 

The Sword and Pen 15G 

The Thread of Life 241 

The Vision of the Valley 176 

The Woodland 174 

Three Companions 154 

Thrifty Homes 118 

Trip and Outing 94 

Truth 146 

Twentieth Century Woman 138 

Twilight Bells 167 

Valley Village Outing 50 

Variety 153 

Washington's Birthday 199 

Water's Benediction 189 

Weather Effect 246 

Welcome 208 

"What the Trees Said" ' 22 

When Ell and I Were Young Folks 168 

"Which" 203 

Whistles 187 

Who Made this Book 247 

Winter 26 

Women and War 124 

World's Fair at Chicago 172 

You, I and We. 217 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Berry Pickers 42 v " 

Front Lawn 174 

Lake Overlook 189 * 

Outing on St. Clair River 80 v 

Outing 97- 

Overlook Boulevard, looking west 57 ^ 

Picture of House 130 + 

The Driveway Overlook 120 

The Prospective Pie 162 v 

The Author ".". Frontispiece v 

Baby Helen 32 

Mackinac Island ."'.... 148 ' 



THE RIGHT RING. 

Give a right ring and a bright ring 
To what you say and write ; 
It may courage give to 

Brothers in the strife; 

For a bright thought charms the ear, 
And a right thought cheers the heart ; 
They together make a 

Better, happier life. 

Then speak with honest eloquence, 
And write with truest glow, 
Not for yourself alone 
To do and dare. 

But, with manly courage bold, 
Sound a right ring and a bright ring 
While in this world you live 
And do your share. 



12 B y S no ok 

CHARM OF THE HILLS. 

TO MY WIFE WHO LOVED THEM SO. 

Somehow, there is a charm among the hills 
That soothes, and yet with inspiration thrills; 
Our spirits and our feet somehow seem lighter, 
The air is purer and the skies are brighter 
Among the hills. 

Somehow, the whispering trees have plainer speech, 
And pleasant thoughts come quick within our reach ; 
The happy bird songs sound with notes more free, 
As echoing back again they come to me 
Among the hills. 

Somehow, the same companions seem more gay, 
Who with new ecstasy make glad the day; 
Discovered flowers smile with shyer grace, 
While blushingly they laugh from hiding place 
Among the hills. 

The gliding brook in shady nook up here 
Runs by with brighter face and more of cheer, 
And if it falls, as hill streams often do, 
It somehow springs again and starts anew 
, Among the hills. 

From this proud height, surroundings all are clear, 
The loveliest landscapes, once so far, seem near; 
Between the earth and glorious sky we rest, 
Knowing somehow that we are charmed and 
blessed 
Among the hills. 



of Overlook 13 



A MANLY MAN. 

DEDICATED TO COL. H. S. DEAN, 22ND M. V. I 

There is in realm of sight or thought, 
Somewhere, an object we admire ; 

Possessed of character and brains 
With ways that all our hearts inspire, 
A manly man. 

He stands erect with courage true, 
Fears not his part of work and care ; 

With large and tender heart of love 
You'll find that he will do his share, 
A manly man. 

He scorns no brother of the race, 
Yet hates the wrongs that ruin brings ; 
Is man enough to stand for right, 
And not bow down to baser things, 
A manly man. 

We love a sturdy soul that's true; 

Strong for the right, who will not bend 
To wrong, to meanness, or to bribe ; 

A true companion, partner, friend, 
A manly man. 



i4 B y S no o k 



READING ALOUD. 

DEDICATED TO MY MOTHER, WIFE, DAUGHTER 
AND BROTHER. 

We sing the praise of those who read 
To the home folks gathered around, 

Choosing for soul the choicest feed 
From best of good things that are found. 

A noble, pleasing, helpful act, 

Patent to thinking minds who know, 

This oft forgotten, yet true fact, 

As minds are fed, so minds will grow. 

Have we not known an evening time 

When those we loved seemed lovlier still, 

As they aloud read thoughts sublime 
That did our better natures thrill? 

They read of courage for the right, 

Of ugly selfishness subdued, 
Of loved ones making home more bright, 
And flowers of hope in pathways strewed. 

Then, children sang a happier song, 
Their good-night was a sweeter kiss, 

The pleasant hours seemed not too long, 
On hearts was stamped a charm of bliss. 

Think not your voice is lost in sound; 

A crown unsought, unasked is thine, 
The noble thoughts you've passed around 

Come back and 'mongst its trophies shine. 



of Overlook 15 

LINCOLN. 

DEDICATED TO PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT. 

'Mongst all the noble names that shine 
On history's page or memory's roll, 

There's none whose worth stands paramount, 
With brighter faith or purer soul, 

Than Lincoln, our own Lincoln. 

In darkest clays when all was night, 
With war-clouds rolling o'er the land, 

And when the storm in fury broke, 
He calmly, firmly, took command, 

No braver man than Lincoln ! 

When weeks to direful months had grown 
And blackest months made up the years, 

He lifted up hope's trembling form, 
He brushed away his country's fears, 
No truer man than Lincoln. 

At freedom's call for broken chain 
From slavery's base, vile auction pen 

His heart was stirred, and with his hand 
Wrote blessed words, good will to men, 
No kinder man than Lincoln. 

Did grander hero ever live? 

In right, he had no hesitation, 
And with true patriots by his side 

He saved a mangled bleeding nation, 
Our honest Abraham Lincoln. 



16 B y S no ok 



ENERGY AND SUNBEAMS. 

When heavy clouds frown, 

And fog settles down, 
O'er the country, city and streams, 

Then the wind comes along, 

With energy strong, 
Making rifts for little sunbeams. 

So, if in our mind 
A dullness, we find, 

Has already begun to begin; 
Brisk work on our part, 
With head, hand and heart, 

Will surely let sunshine in. 



DEAR HOME. 

Home is the word most dear, 

No other sound o'er earth's broad space, 
With winning, luring, charming tone 

Can rise to take its place. 

Who does not surely know 

That they are happiest yet by far, 

Who let no monster word or thought, 
Enter the home to mar. 



of Overlook 17 

Where is there love so true 

When crushing adverse tempests start, 
And seeming, fawning, flattering friends 

In cruel haste depart ? 

Where such unselfishness, 

When sickness calls for watchful care, 
From helpful, hopeful, anxious hearts 

As from the dear one's there? 

My theme is still of home, 

No other can with it compete ; 
The song I love to sing the most 

Is of dear home so sweet. 



A TIMID POEM. 

I'm but a little fellow 

Just a poem young and mellow, 

Having aspirations many 

With great fears as keen as any. 

But I don't know what to do 
Cause I'm 'fraid I won't suit you, 
Still in hope, Fin bound to ask it 
Don't put me in your waste-basket. 



18 By Snook 

CONTRAST. 

"O, see that lovely rose," 

The one girl said 

While looking at a bush in June; 

The other slowly asked 

With face forlorn 

"Why are they always near a thorn?" 

Two little children 

Gathering lovliest flowers, 

Said one "how nice and bright they are!" 

The other thus replied; 

"How tame this ugly spot! 

Oh dear, why is the sun so hot?" 

Two friends climbed up a hill, 

One said in joyful strain, 

''Oh grandeur! how I love this scene!" 

The other bluntly spoke 

"I hate to look so deep, 

It is so awful rough and steep." 

Two youthful maidens fair 

Once wandered by a stream ; 
One said : "How clear the water is !" 
The other with dejected tone, 
While gazing round, 
"How cold and damp this horrid ground !" 

Two hopeful, lucky ones — 

Perhaps they're you and me — 

Are looking for the loveliest scenes ; 

Skipping the dull and drear 

With pictures only sad, 

Thus making life more bright and glad. 



of Overlook 19 



HOW TO TELL A WOMAN'S AGE. 

The secret is out, 

So much talked about, 

Though for years 

It was sought for in vain, 

And the people of old, 

In numbers untold, 

O'er the question 

Had bothered their brain. 

How to tell the true age, 

Without being a sage, 

Of a lady that's 

Out of her teens; 

So the secret I'll tell, 

Though it may cause a yell, 

And 'tis done by 

This simplest of means. 

Just open your ear 

And listen and hear 

She will tell of her 

Age, and how old ; 

Now be careful today, 

And mind what I say, 

For 'tis told by the 

Amount that she'll scold. 



2o B y S no ok 



SURE OF SPRING. 
(written for the woman's club paper BY 

REQUEST. ) 

When cold winds howl, o'er snow banks high 
And winter reigns o'er hill and plain. 

All sigh for warmest days, and, then 
We wish that spring would come again. 

The world feels gay, when nature laughs, 
And violets peep from hill and dale, 

To fill the heart with hope, — just then 
We think that spring has come again. 

When ladies' hats grow gay with flowers, 
When roses on their cheeks are seen, 

When woman's clubs smile on the men 
We're sure that spring has come again. 

THE LOOKING GLASS. 
The old looking glass, — what a friend it has been 

As it hangs on the wall, or stands staunch and true, 
How silent it is, not a word has it said 

And yet by reflection has spoken to you. 

It tells us our faults as no other friends do. 

Without jeering or fawning, how plainly it speaks. 
Of our hat, coat, and dress, and our vanity too. 

And the color that sometimes comes to our cheeks. 

We sincerely wish that its verdict were better, 

But cannot affect its decision — alas; 
While perhaps we have turned to those who would 
flatter 

We respect its plain truth — the old looking glass. 



of Overlook 21 



PANCAKE TIME. 
Some love no more the winter's night 
With lengthened robe of white, 
But sigh for earth's glad dress of green 
O'er fields and forests seen. 

And some for May's glad month of bloom 
Have plenty of heart room ; 
They love to speak in prose and rhyme 
Of lovely blossoming time. 

And those there are who'd mask or play 
In fields of grain or hay; 
Or bundle stack would climb 
In summer's harvest time. 

While others still would fishing go 
Or hunting as they row, 
Or listen to the church bells chime 
In lurid autumn time. 

Others admire the frosty morn 
With rustling ripened corn, 
And they with appetites sublime 
Love best the pan-cake time. 



22 By Snook 

THE FOLLOWING LINES WERE FOUND ON LEAVES OF 

TREES, WHERE THEY WILL BE PRINTED 

EVERY SPRING. 

"WHAT THE TREES SAID." 

"Lives there a man with soul so dead 
Who never to himself hath said," 

This barren lawn belongs to me 
I'll seed it down and plant a tree. 

"Who never to himself hath said," 
To those fair trees I make my bow, 

Their beauty was from heaven sent 
I will, I will protect them now. 

With soul so selfish, and so dead 

For pelf alone, he'd only live, 
But for his home or country's sake 

Not a green shrub or tree he'd give. 

Dead, dead, yes he is doubly dead 
Who cannot see glad nature fair, 

Nor hear the whisperings of the trees 
Nor smell their fragrance in the air. 

"If such there be go mark him well," 
Write shame, where it is plain to see, 

And when he's in last resting place 
Plant there no flower, shrub or tree. 



of Overlook 23 



BITTER SWEET. 

Twining from the meadow fence, 
Or trailing from the trees, 

Hangs the bright bitter-sweet 
Swung by the breeze. 

The flowers of autumn 

Have all passed away, 
No more are we cheered 

By the birds' happy lay. 

So sadly we're sighing 

As winter comes on, 
Not finding attractions 

Now withered or gone. 

But O! see those beauties 

In clusters so neat 
They're just what we wanted 

Bright red bitter-sweet. 

The frosts have but heightened 

The colors anew, 
That you have been hiding 

And keeping from view. 

Oh! is'nt this charming! 

Delightful, to meet 
With wild Christmas tokens, 

Our loved bitter-sweet. 



24 B y S no ok 

OUR BASEMENT WINDOW. 
Dark, damp and drear the cellar was, 

When first we came to Overlook, 
Old rotten, boarded bins were there 

And spooks seemed hid in every nook. 

My better half sighed for more light 
And dryer warmth beneath the floors, 

For ventilation more complete, 

For happy sunshine from out doors. 

We planned, we studied and we thought, 
And then, e'er long a furnace grew, 

Which brought in fresh air from outside 
And took the foul up chimney flue. 

A room for truck and fruit was made, 
And goodly space for coal and wood; 

Where as through chute it glided in 
It seemed so handy and so good. 

The floor was covered with cement, 
The dark and grimy walls made white, 

And yet it lacked in one respect, 

It seemed somehow too much like night. 

A window we must have, why not, 

In place of these three panes so small? 

So with a crowbar and a pick 

I battered down the great stone wall. 

For garden window long and high 
With sloping frame to catch the light, 

Making an earth-shelf three by seven 
For many flowers with faces bright. 



of Overlook 25 

A place for rustic vine to grow 

Which climbs to sitting room above, 

Where round the room in festoons gay 
It hangs and trails in loops of love. 

No more by "cellar" is it called 

But "basement/' a more seemly name, 

And to this window we ascribe 
The most of credit for the same. 

And if,through sloth or ignorance, 
Our lives like that cellar have been, 

"Enlarge the windows of the soul 
And let the light of heaven in." 

CHILDHOOD. 

O ! the songs that we sang ! 
How the great forests rang, 
As a play house we made 
In the old maple's shade. 

Or blending with others, 
Our sisters and brothers, 
And with Father's sweet voice 
In the hymns of our choice. 

How a Mother's warm heart 
Did good councils impart, ♦ 

With her stories to read, — 
Just the ones that we'd need. 

O! those pictures, they thrill 
And our souls often fill, 
With the charmings sublime 
Of that glad happy time. 



26 B y S n o o k 



WINTER. 



What will pay us for the winter 
With its cold and ice and snow, 
Where's the recompense to come from 
That shall cause the heart to glow? 

If we'll stop and think a moment, 
There are evenings warm and bright 

When around the center table 
We may visit with delight. 

Or, may read the news in detail 
And discuss its bearings many; 

Compare markets and thus learn 
How to make an honest penny. 

Then the singing and the playing 
Adding pleasure to the leisure 

And fine sleighing or smooth coasting 
With glad laughter in good measure. 

How we enjoy the fire's warm glow 
Put on the grate another splinter 

Bring in the nuts and popcorn, too, 
T'were surely dull without the winter. 



of Overlook 27 



SUCCESS. 

What is success? Now tell us why, 
And after thinking make reply, 
Confused I am and nothing less, 
They differ so about success. 

Some say to gain this wondrous prize 
You must be very smart and wise, 
And learn the languages galore 
Of all the dead past gone before. 

Some, that in fashion you must swim 
And bow to every changing whim 
So that the proud will envy you 
So much they'll not know what to do. 

Others, that art or literature 
Are only things that will endure; 
Sculpture you must, or paint or rhyme 
Or pen tracks make on page of time. 

While others still, that, at a glance 
You're sure to see it's all finance; 
Success financially you know 
Is putting dollars where they'll grow. 

Till massive walls are thick and strong 
With pelf absorbed the whole life long 
Fencing ourselves with greed about 
So none see in, nor we see out. 



28 By Snook 

Some think that eating another's part 
Will fill one up and make him smart ; 
He might succeed, perhaps, but then 
No hog should be without a pen. 

The answer seems so hard to find, 

How does the following strike your mind, — 

Is not success as best we can 

To be at peace with God and man? 

"THE MISSING LINK." 

DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO CLAIM THE HONOR OF 
APE ANCESTRY. 

Would you see our stuffed calico ape? 

On haunches he sits with knees near to chin, 
He's a dandy with brain power not very large, 

His arms and his claws are both thin. 

On the floor with his back to the door 
Where he's fastened securely to stay, 

Be it little or much, he will hold it there 
At just any angle you say. 



"Darwin Senior" they call him for short, 
And it may be he's dreaming — about, 

Just how in the long years that yet are to come 
His "Juniors" will figure it out. 

He's so sorry that he broke the link 
That is missing, alas! and a-lack, 

And thinks if his juniors would look in the glass 
They might possibly get the link back. 



of Overlook 29 



THE POEM TREE. 

You've asked me for a thought, Marie, 
That's grown upon my poem tree ; 
Gladly I'd grant that one desire 
If I but knew which you admire. 

Some have a charm of dell and hill, 
Others the soul with blossoms fill, 
While some, I'm sure, of hope will sing 
And all we trust have the ''right ring." 

With tintings of a hundred kinds 
They're suited to as many minds, 
Which you, in preference might accept 
Has ne'er among my thoughtlets crept. 

T'were better if you'd see the tree 
And pluck from off its branches free, 
Boquets of beauty or of style 
That seen might echo back a smile. 

Or 'praps, my cousin, I might grow 
A blossom of peculiar glow; 
In realm of fancy there is room 
For poems are but thoughts in bloom. 



3° By S'n o ok 



THE OTHER FELLOW. 

You've seen perhaps or may have known 
In all your ramblings up and down, 

Of that blamed person, — ever blamed 
By all good people in the town, — 
The other fellow. 

Sam said his father knew us both, 

Just where he would'nt say might be, 
But any way these words he said 
That one's as mean as pusley tea, 
The other fellow. 

Mac Flanagan, he answered thus, 

"I'm not the mon, you'd know it cause, 
Mike, Pete and Pat they ought to know 
They say it surely, surely was 
The other fellow." 

One sorry day when Timothy 

And Clover Hay were on the rack, 

Dry Tim denied in court and said 
He's now the one to put in stock, 
The other fellow. 

If you and I should have a spat 
About some foolish work or play, 

And blow it all about the town 
Who'd be the first to say, and say, 
The other fellow. 



of Overlook 31 

Strange, strange that one be singled out 

And made to carry such abuse, 
Just cause he did'nt know the song 
By many peoples' tongues let loose, 
The other fellow. 

Now if these jottings do not suit, 

If criticism is adverse, 
Don't blame the writer, it's not me 

It is the one who reads the verse, 
The other fellow. 



BERRIES. 

The berries, the berries, 

The ripe luscious berries , 
To my sight they appeal 

And my palate as well, 
I like them, I love them, 

Unpicked or in baskets, 
Just how much I love them 

I never can tell. 

They're red, they are crimson, 

They're black, brown and purple, 
On bushes they grow 

Or cluster on vine; 
My heart and my hands 

Go out in a welcome 
I'll take them and eat therri 

If only they're mine. 



3 2 B y S 11 o ok 



FRIENDSHIP. 

Tell me, ye fairies of my dreams 

That float on happiest fancy streams, 

Is aught more prized than friendship true, 

Has aught a gladder, brighter hue? 

Tell me, ye children fresh as day, 

Who spend the hours 'mongst books and play, 

Is there a charm of more delight 

Than you have found in friendship bright? 

Tell me, young folks, whom all admire, 
Ye who to greatest deeds aspire, 
What echoing thoughts come quicker back 
Than those dear ones on friendship's track? 

Tell me, tell me, ye men so strong 
And women as you pass along, 
Do you in others more confide 
Than truest friendships that abide? 

Tell me, ye pioneers of life, 
Who've carried loads of joy and strife, 
Where, where in present or in past 
Do lingering memories longest last? 

Tell me, O! tell me, if you can, 

Ye who with fartherest vision scan, 

Is there a truer, purer love 

Than friendship knows, in realms above? 




BABY HELEN 



Take a flower the babe is saying 

As she looks up from her playing 
Making heart-strings tingle, gingle 
As her smiles among them mingle. 



Fairest rose among the roses, 
She's the queen of all the posies ; 

Sweeter far than peach or melon 
Is our darling Baby Helen. 



of Overlook 33 



A FROG-LIKE DIVE. 

WHEN I was about seven or eight years old, 
we had one of those historical June fresh- 
ets, so detrimental to the partially drained 
lands of pioneer days. The large open ditches with 
their green grass-covered banks and sides cropped 
close by the grazing stock, were filled to their very 
brims with warm, clear, almost motionless water, 
so lately from the clouds of heaven, but now reflect- 
ing serenely the bright, glad sunbeams. How two 
little barefooted boys with their pants rolled up, 
enjoyed the wading and splashing through the 
broad shallow innundation of the meadow ! What 
thought they of drowning corn, wheat or potatoes ! 
My companion saying he could do what I couldn't, 
got down on all fours on the slightly elevated bank 
of a wide full ditch, and drank from its clear water. 
When he arose I said, "I guess I can do that, too," 
and proceeded to verify the statement. Suddenly 
he gave me an energetic push and, frog-like, I made 
my first dive. He helped me with the "Outing," 
but was instantly at a safe distance, for I was any- 
thing but cooled off, and forthwith undertook to 
administer what I supposed to be justice for so sud- 
den a violation of good faith, but his legs being 
longer than mine, he reached a shed some rods 
away, and by the aid of an adjoining fence had 
climbed to the roof just as I came to the bottom. 
If wrath had been angelic I certainly could have 



34 B y S no ok 

flown to the top, but pounded fingers as I grappled 
the roof boards in a vain attempt to climb the dis- 
tance between the fence and eves, baffled my only 
chance of nearer conflict. A long-range chastise- 
ment only remained. Clubs, sticks, and roots flew 
into the air in quick succession. Fortunately for 
both of us there were no stones at hand. He was 
a good dodger, and his only sharp returning mis- 
siles were laughing taunts. The fire of my nature, 
combined with the warm sun and unusual activity 
of the occasion, soon dried my clothes. Muscle and 
wrath finally gave way and we each sat down, he on 
the shed and I on a stump, to rest and review the 
situation, and to think, — for thinking and reason 
had been for a time entirely out of the question. 
But ere the glorious sun had gone to> rest, we were 
playing together as happily as in the dawning of 
that eventful June day. 



A WEDDING WISH. 

As "One" you now launch 
O'er Love's Lake to glide, 

Glad wedded companions, 
Your choice by your side. 

Dear friends, while you journey 
In all kinds of weather, 

May your lives as these chimes 
Blend in sweetness together. 



o f O v erl o ok 35 



GREAT GIFTS. 

To know the charm of music, 
And to feel its magic power, 
There must be within the breast, 

A kindred glow. 
So that when sweet sounds are heard 
The soul as quick as thought 
From its key-boards true and bright 

Sends back the echo. 

The same is true of singing, 

Or of poetry and story. 

It may fall on spots as blank 

As blank can be. 
Or in striking proper soil, 
It will surely not recoil, 
But will cause within the heart 

A jubilee. 

What a blessing is this gift 
Of discerning pleasant sounds, 
Or of rapturous harmonies 

That lift one higher, 
And to have ourselves enjoy 
Fine thoughts in beauty dressed, 
Which come from minds and pens 

That can inspire ! 



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A BOY ON GUARD. 

Only a boy on guard, 

And interests of vast concern 
Are put in his young hands 

While we from his needs would turn. 

Why is the boy on guard? 

What interests great are pending? 
Why stands he there alone 

Such mighty trusts defending? 

My friend, he guards himself 

Or would with armor furnished; 

He stands — for shame — alone 
With giant hosts contending. 

What interest greater, pray? 

Than he himself — your naming; 
Prepare the lad for foes! 

Don't spend the time in blaming. 

Your very name he wears 

He holds your reputation, 
Are these not interests great? 

Then give him preparation. 

Are we too busy now? 

Too shiftless or too lazy ? 
To help our boy in need? 

If so, we must be crazy. 



o f Ov erl o ok 37 

Only a boy on guard, 

Only a boy they're saying; 
So they will rope him in 

For snares for boys they're laying. 

Fill up his active mind, 

Show him examples — any, 
Where wrongs of various kinds 

Have ruined households many. 

Only a boy on guard 

Perhaps another Lincoln; 
Fill full his heart with right 

His mind with noble thinking. 



RAIN DROPS. 

There's music in the rain drop's pattering song 

If all our interests are secure, 
But how about the ones unfortunate 

Who must the pelting storm endure? 

They sing no happy song as they pass by, 
Once merry with their joyful mirth, 

They're facing now an awful northeast storm, 
The coldest, dampest thing on earth. 

The rain drops have no joyful tune for them, 
Somehow in harmony they lack, 

They seem much gayer running down a roof 
Than down a person's neck or back. 



3& B v S n o o k 



A DILEMMA. 

O! dear! I sigh, and this is why; 

— We take so many papers— 
That when I'm through a skimen 'em 

My head is filled with vapors. 

And then I plan as best I can 
To stop their plaguy comin,' 

But soon the agent comes around 
And keeps on drumin,' drumin.' 

The family they all start a howl, 
We want these, that and tuther, 

Don't cut that out, don't drop those off 
And sure we want another. 

You see our folks is built this way, 

At times our notions vary, 
Some's more for business than the rest 

Som'y sort 'o literary. 

If you like me was keepin' house 
And tryin' to have things slicky, 

With all these papers layin' round 
I guess that you'd feel kicky. 

I often sort and pick 'em up 

To make 'em look some better, 

But folks can't find the ones they want 
So sling 'em helter skelter. 



of Overlook 39 

There's so much good in 'em mixed through 

To burn 'em up — I couldn't, — 
And yet, the papers vex me so 

I just think, — should or should'nt. — 

Some say that they would do that way 

But I'm too tinder hearted ; 
Still, there's no tellin' what I'd do 

If once I should get started. 

If some folks' homes were built up high 

With stories like sky scrapers, 
They'd fill 'em up and pack 'em full 

Of magazines and papers. 

I sympathize with Mrs. Pat 

Who used to say "Be japers, 
I rally don't know what to do 

With magazines and papers." 



MERRY CHRISTMAS. 

Who knows, but from trifles 
On this best of days, 
Some chords may awaken 
By chimes of good will, 
And thrill with sweet music 
Our friendship so dear, 
Thus rounding the sum of 
A glad Christmas cheer? 



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LIGHTS THEN AND NOW. 

Lights of the night 

With your glitter and glow, 

(We used to have tallow candles) 

My great admiration 

You never can know. 

Your light is so bright 
And so constant in glare, 
(We had to use the snuffers) 
The darkness recedes, 
And you see it no where. 

Your lights have no wick 

And are started so quick, 

(Ours sputtered and run down the side) 

If we'd had your kind 

We'd thought they were slick. 

And your lanterns 

With your crystal globes gleaming, 

(Ours were perforated tin) 

You travel the road 

Like only just seeming. 

With your electric 
Your gas, or your fine gasoline, 
(We burned pine knots sometimes) 
You must see the same sun 
Moon and stars we had seen. 



of Overlook 41 



COLORED STARS. 

On July fourth at evening time 

On pinnacle of Overlook, 
Our family went to see the sights 

That in the darkness better look. 

We gazed in all directions round 

And saw the gleaming fireworks gay, 

In zealous patriotic towns 

From one to sixteen miles away. 

We saw the colored rockets shoot 
High up in azure to'ard the sky, 

Then bending o'er in graceful curve 
Burst to a hundred stars on high. 

Look quick they start in Rochester, 
Now Orion — See ! and Pontiac, 

There Utica shoots. Mt. Clemens, 
See! Romeo — O! do look back. 

A jolly time we had indeed — 
Of fireworks we had our fill, 

And celebrated just the same, 
But did'nt have to foot the bill. 



42 B y S no ok 



BERRY PICKERS. 

When sun is up and dew most gone 
The pickers trail across the lawn 
With bright "good morning" for our cheer, 
''Is Alice, Lizzie, Mary here?" 

"I thought I was a little late 
For so and so I had to wait, 
Where is best picking for to day 
I wish I knew, I'd go that way." 

Then, packing crate to full extent, 
They ask to which field Flossie went, 
And other names by less or more, 
Perhaps sometimes a rounded score. 

Away they go by ones, twos, threes, 

As lively as the busy bees, 

Saying to self I'll pick this day 

More berries bright than Bess or May. 

Returning soon with baskets high 
They set them down and say "Oh ! my 
Sixteen for No. 9 now write 
I'll have my quota picked by night." 

So when some sixty less or more 
Have glided through the fruit house door 
And you with needed smile or frown 
Have cheered some up or called some down, 



M 
O 

w 

w 




of Overlook 43 

And packed and placed in rows complete, 
The berries bright with faces sweet, 
All appetites with magic power 
Welcome once more the glad noon hour. 

In squads they seek the shady nooks, 
With hunger stamped upon their looks, 
They spread the cloth and eat their lunch 
And talk and munch, and talk and munch. 

'Neath maples, oaks, or cherry trees 
They sit and chat in cooling breeze, 
Speaking of facts, or fruits or fun, 
Of things that other folks have done. 

Some by "Lake Overlook" would go, 
While eating watch the froggies grow, 
And wish that they might have a boat 
So they could sit and sing and float 

Just see the campers full of fun, 
All t'wards their dining tables run, 
Hungry and thirsty, lank and thin, 
'Praps, without breakfast they have been. 

And some with happiest virtues blest 
Make it more pleasant for the rest, 
Thus merry as a ringing chime 
They spend the hour of picnic time. 

But now the signal sounds at last 
For glad noon hour has quickly passed. 
And some will say (the livelier sorts) 
"Come girls, let's get those forty quarts." 



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And if through fields of fruit you stray 
To see if berry pickings pay 
This song you'll hear as round you go 
"Keep off my row, keep off my row." 

Sometimes in jest, sometimes, O ! dear, 
In tones you would not like to hear, 
Sometimes the voice is keyed so faigh 
T'would scare the quiet passer by. 

Keep off my row you little elf, 
This row you know is for myself, 
I'll tell of you, now get and go 
Keep off my row, keep off my row. 

Dear friend, you'd hear this song some day 
To cheer you in your work or play, 
These piercing tones you're sure to know 
"Keep off my row, keep off my row." 

Keep off my row in business strife, 
Keep off my row in social life, 
Keep off my row where e'er you go, 
Keep off my row, keep off my row. 



o f v erlo ok 45 



QUIET REST. 

'Midst life's perplexities and cares 
Who does not sigh for quiet rest, 

A Sabbath with its sacred joys 

To quicken hope within the breast? 

Enclosed within the soul of man, 
There is deep down, a hidden flame 

Struggling 'mongst rubbish cold and dark 
To warm the heart and joy reclaim. 

'Tis sad while striving just for gold, 
The best of all should not be gained, 

That love to God and love to men, 
Neglected be and ne'er attained. 

'Tis sad that any one should slave 
For seven days in every seven, 

And help with influence thus to kill 
The day for weary workers given. 

In all the tumult and the toil 
It must be they are greatly blest, 

Who plan and strive with eagerness 
To share a Sabbath's sacred rest. 



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DING DONG MUSINGS. 

The other day we strayed away 

For visiting and pleasure, 
To cross the bay, as one might say 

From work-a-day to leisure, 

And hear the engines' ding dong. 

Through fields of green and sights unseen 
'Mongst stump lands often gliding 

We found our way at close of day 
Just by the shore abiding, 

And heard the steamer's ding dong. 

The waters tossed as o'er we crossed; 

We held to railing tightly, 
At last we feel our hearty meal 

Some how seems rising slightly, 
Eased not by ding, ding donging. 

Once more we're back to Mackinac 

That isle of greatest beauty, 
Where cabman's cry with prices high 

Made leaving it a duty, 

For steamboats toots and ding dongs. 

Adieu, adieu thou lovely "Soo" 

Your locks are your great treasure, 

Our hearts and pocketbooks are weak, 
We've lost them in a measure 

'Mongst whistles and the ding dongs. 



of Overlook 47 

But firmer grow as on we go 

Through forests sad, or cheery, 
To Seney that great waiting place 

So dreary, dreary, dreary; 

In need of ding, ding, dongings. 

At Grand "Mara" we stop and stay, 

T'is on the great Superior, 
With harbor fine and logs to mine 

It cannot be inferior; 

With many kinds of ding dongs. 

Its driveways lay around the bay 

With terraces so charming, 
On which in pioneeric style 

You'll find some trace of farming; 
With sawmills ding, ding dongings. 

The Nation's fine Life Saving Station, 

Performed with antics many, 
Giving a view to me and you 

And didn't charge a penny; 

For cannons booming ding dongs. 

But shocked we are for every where 

Cows roam the streets at leisure, 
Lawn-mowing alleys, park and shore 

In cow-bell fiendish measure ; 
With gingle, gingle, ding dongs. 

At mid-night's hour with ringing power 

They start my dreams astraying, 
Way back to ways of boy-hood days 

With kine and forests blending; 
Those happy, childish ding dongs, 



4 8 B y S no ok 

I ride again through dust and rain 

My pony true and trusty, 
For cows that strayed through glen and glade 

With bells that ne'er grew rusty; 

With their far off echoing ding dongs. 

So as it seems in facts or dreams 
I'll find some treasured pleasure, 

To sort of cheer and bring more near 
My musings in a measure; 

'Mongst business with its ding dongs. 



A SMILE AND PROMISE. 

A smile once hid 

In the heart of a maid, 
And longlingly shone 

From her roguish eyes. 

One day as she made 
A lunch for her beau, 

The smile got mixed 
In her dainty pies. 

The result was such 
That before the dawn, 

The eyes with their smile 
Were promised to John. 



of Overlook 49 



BALANCED ROCKS. 

Among the Rocky Mountain crags I stand, 
Charmed by its pinnacles on high, 

Awed with its chasms dark and deep, 
I know not if to laugh or sigh. 

Is this gigantic mountain chain 

The work or play of earthquake shocks, 

Hurling in seeming blind dismay 
These huge, bold, jagged rocks? 

Here is a trio, stone on stone 

With ne'er a stay, of props or locks, 

Erect on tiny base each stands 
These giant, self-poised, balanced rocks. 

What! are there laws so delicate, 
And yet so greatly, grandly strong 

Among confusion's chaos here, 

Then charms like this shall be my song. 

O! balanced rocks, so plumb and true, 
Some bards may sing of fields and flocks, 

But at this time my soul is stirred 
With grand old Rockies balanced rocks. 



5o B y S no ok 



VALLEY VILLAGE OUTING. 

WHEN about fourteen, a good friend and 
relative in the village of Rochester invited 
a companion and myself to attend for the 
winter the then quite famous place of learning on 
the west hill, and offered to exchange the hospitality 
of their home for our out-of-school hours and Sat- 
urdays. The invitation was gladly accepted. The 
journey thither was most romantic and exhilerating, 
being for some miles along the old Clinton and Kal- 
amazoo canal, from whose banks the meanderings 
of the wooded Clinton River could be closely fol- 
lowed near at hand. In one place it was crossed by 
an acqueduct, which to us was quaint, new, and 
wonderful. To see a large stream with wooden 
bottom and sides run high over a river was indeed 
interesting. We stood spellbound as we watched 
the great streams of leakage gush from its sides 
and fall into the water below. That day, and that 
walk, and talk, through nature's charming land- 
scapes, wild and fair, of hills and dales, unseen 
before, of woods and streams, of earth works and 
art works combined the whole way through, and 
after years of restful solitude, clothed with nature's 
loveliest garments, was, in inspiration, as a hundred 
days. Our tired feet knew no weariness, till wel- 
comed to a resting-place. Three different school 
principals in six weeks, was our lot and misfortune. 
The first good man had finished his contract. The 
second, much younger, with broad forehead and 
blazing red hair, had a temper rivaling and perhaps 
surpassing both. Pugilistic proclivities seemed to 



o f Overlo ok 51 

lurk in every word and act, and before two weeks 
had expired fifteen of the older scholars, mostly 
gentlemen and ladies, as I believe, had been expelled 
from the institution. Revolvers were freely carried 
and I really expected to see the "Czar" thrown from 
the upper windows. Then came an outing for the 
principal (offender) also. Number three, a quiet 
intelligent man, was promptly installed and led the 
flock as if by magic. In those clays the winter terms 
contained many young men from eighteen to 
twenty-one years of age. My outing from school 
came some two weeks later, when a letter from 
home announced my father's severe illness, and 
saying that business demanded my presence. 



ANGEL THOUGHT. 

If you have a pleasant thought 
'Tis an angel you have caught; 

If you have a thought sublime 
Pass it round and loose no time. 

If you have one — narrow — small — 
Hide it neath a great stone wall; 

Have and give the best you can 
Thus conform to God's great plan. 



52 B y Sno ok 



BREAD AND BUTTER. 

How strange it is that everywhere 
Folks seem in such a flutter, 

About two very common things; 
I mean, — their bread and butter. 

The politicians talk of them 
And teachers sometimes mutter, 

As well as every kind of folks — 
About their bread and butter. 

Why don't they speak of pork and beans, 
Or fried cakes made with cutter? 

But all are fearfully afraid 

They'll lose their bread and butter. 

From places high or places low 
From palace or from gutter, 

Somehow they have the selfsame craze, 
They all want bread and butter. 

About two non-essentials thus 

They scheme and plan and putter, 

This always-going, never-lasting 
Everlasting bread and butter. 



of Overlook 53 



LIVING PICTURES. 

Come, kindly friends, and with me go 
And view my living picture show; 
They are not fast to plastered walls 
Nor piled are they in vacant halls ; 
But float in memory's glad domain 
Oft coming to my soul again, 
Those living, moving pictures. 

We call them up by wireless phone 
From hiding places all their own; 
And, oft uncalled, they come by day 
Or into dreamland make their way 
Through pretty paths their fancies know, 
With loving look they come and go, 
My treasured living pictures. 

Here is a group from childhood's time 

With lives as happy as a rhyme; 

This one is children on the floor, 

With play things round them less or more; 

Stay! not so quick, move not so fast 

I want to kiss them e'er they're passed 

The living, lovely pictures. 

Ah ! • Mud Pies, by a little maid, 
No happier stunt was ever made, 
And Puppies, with the kittens play, 
They love the hearth on winter's day. 
A Nutting Party — see, O ! see, 
And isn't that you, and isn't that me, 
Among the moving pictures? 



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Here's coasting, as it was of old, 

With rosy cheeks and fingers cold, 

And skating, with its grace of poise, 

Its laugh of girls, and shout of boys. 

There, they are pouring forth from school, 

With animation now the rule, 

These jolly, moving pictures. 

But scenes are coming fast and thick, 
To see a few, we must be quick ; 
Here's hunting, fishing, and the swim, 
And horse-back ride and scrap with Jim, 
A walk with Ell, a chat with Will, 
A carriage ride down by the mill, 
Such fastly moving pictures. 

And Home, dear Home, its place the best 

In which to work, and love and rest ; 

Tables we see with glad repast, 

And friendships that forever last, 

Children — God bless the darlings dear, 

As they grow up from year to year, 

Making these living pictures. 

Friends, if your fancy so incline, 
Visit again this show of mine 
See then perhaps a hundred more, 
As they pass by the poem door 
And with an ecstacy sublime 
Make doubly glad our resting time, 
O ! lovely memory pictures. 



ofOverlook 55 



BEAUTIES OF HORTICULTURE. 

Oh! Horticulture's lovely realm 
How grand it is, how charming; 

Its beautiful gracefulness is such 
As dignifies good farming. 

So vastly great this glad domain, 

In various things abounding, 
If we once try to sum them up, 

It really is astounding. 

Have we not wrestled in our dreams 
With thoughts that gave us pleasure, 

And caught the language of the trees 
To cheer us in a measure? 

Who's failed to find in shrub or plant 

Companionship refreshing, 
Or felt 'mongst flowers a holier thrill? 

Then thank God for the blessing! 

And fruits, oh dear, a thousand kinds, 

No end to their designing, 
Raise them we should, if they are good, 

And quit our dull repining. 

But good enough is none too good, 

My fancy's not assuming; 
The curious kinds you'll find perhaps 

'Mongst trees with poems blooming. 



56 B y S no ok 



ONCE IN A WHILE. 

Once in a while I sigh for quiet rest 

As other weary mortals do, 
For some I'm told are built that way 

And possibly it may be you. 

Once in a while I say good bye to work, 
With all its complex care and strife, 

And wander out 'mongst trees and field 
To rest a while and gain new life. 

Once in a while with nature true I talk, 
In language that the heart doth know, 

And feel the answers as they come 
In pleasant whispers soft and low. 

Once in a while I look beyond myself 
With heart confiding in a Father's love 

And gain new courage for this life 
From the eternal powers above. 

Once in a while I love with friends to look 

Across the sunlit valley's rills 
Where stand God's landscape pictures, grand, 

Against the everlasting hills. 

Once in a while I take the poet's pen, 

Jotting my glimpses in a book, 
So I may not forget the charms 

That only those may know who look. 







o 
o 
h-r 

A 
> 

& 
O 

PP 

o 

o 
-J 

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of Overlook 57 



OVERLOOK BOULEVARD. 

If loveliest landscape 

Would make you a bard, 

See ''Overlook's" beauty — 
Its grand boulevard. 

With quiet oaks standing 

In carpets of green, 
To charm and to shield you 

From sun's glowing sheen. 

Look away o'er the valley 
For miles up and down, 

Watch grandeur of hillsides 
Beyond the fair town. 

See the homes and the fields 

With forests a part. 
Most beautiful painting 

Of nature and art. 

Come and frame for us now 

In poem or song, 
A five mile wide picture 

By fifteen miles long. 



5 8 By Sno ok 



OUR TWO STORY HOUSE PLANT. 

We have a vine, 
A lovely rambling vine, 
And you will fail to guess, 

As others have, 
From whence it comes or how, 
Unless in these few lines 

I tell you, now. 

Its starting place 
Is in the basement warm; 
Outside the great stone wall 

In slanting window, 
Large and light and long, 
It grows in native soil 

With tendrils strong. 

Here in the floor 
Two tiny holes were made, 
And through them it was led 

With greatest care 
To the sitting room above, 
Where all enjoy it still 

With ardent love. 

It climbed the walls 
Close by the window's side 
And, spreading out and round 

With double branch, 
It loosely hangs and twines 
'Mongst pictures peeping 

Through the vines. 



of Overlook 59 

The mild-eyed Stag 
As if from forest come, 
Looks through the twigs more wild 

Than formerly; 
And quiet, docile sheep 
Try hard from browsing leaves 

Themselves to keep. 

Our "Wide-awake" 
With hazel eyes 
Is looking out as calm 

As from a cosy bower; 
She seems so glad to say, 
"I love this leafy spot, 

Tis just like May." 

And old Farm Scenes, 
That's talked for many a year 
In accents grandly dear, 

Of rural life, 
Now sings in vine-clad lays 
Of dearest home-life there 

In by-gone clays. 

My wife and daughter 
Claim its better half; 
And I from winter's cold 

Its roots defend; 
While all enjoy its going 
Around the sunny room 

As it keeps growing. 

At which I sit and write, 
And o'er this desk 



60 B y S no ok 

It casts a charming glance 

Of friendship true, 
Which you may share with mine, 
If in these lines you see 

Our lovely vine. 

SHORT YEAR. 

January, February, March; 

You've slipped from our sight too soon, 
We're not ready to let you go 

But here comes April, May, and June. 

July, August, September; 

The summer has gone so fast, 
October, November, December, 

Why! the little short year is passed. 

AVON. 

Avon, glad Avon, lovely queen, 

Thy place among the township band 

Of Oakland county's twenty-five 
Is simply grand. 

Thy tripple streams with pebbly strand 
In valleys banked with hillsides green, 

Give landscape pictures beautiful 
Wherever seen. 

The Clinton with its wealth of power, 
And Paint Creek's charming little ways, 

With Stony Creek's blithe rippling stream, 
All sing thy praise. 



o f Ov erl o ok 61 

THE CENTENNIAL TRIP IN RHYME. 

DEDICATED 
TO THE COMPANION OF MY MFE, AND OF MY JOURNEY. 

The sights we saw along the way; 

The grand, the fanciful, the queer; 

Mixed up in comical array 
And written here. 
Once in the days gone by, 
In the bright month of May : 
We left our pleasant home, 
And sped our way 
Along the iron track, 
O'er rivers deep and wide, 
O'er watery plain 
In Canada's domain. 
O'er bridge suspended high 
Between the water and the sky. 
Through York State's varied scenes 
Of level lands, 

Of mountains towering high, 
Of valleys deep, 

Of streamlets rushing, gushing on 
O'er pebbly strand, 
O'er ragged, jagged beds 
Deep 'twixt the overhanging rocks 
On either side, 

To the more quiet, peaceful waters 
Of the Hudson. 
Oh, Empire State! 
Thy scenery is grand, 
Thy cities large, 
The air above thee pure and good. 



62 B y S no ok 

Yet best of all 

And fairest far of all thy charms, 

Is the historic river of the past; 

The glorious Hudson. 

And yet thou'rt now as then ; 

So calm, so bright so grand ; 

Thy banks are everlasting hills, 

Thy sources everlasting rills. 

And who that sails 

Upon thy bosom fair, 

Can help but raise 

His voice for thee in praise? 

Yes, we that pleasure had, 

To journey and to talk, 

To sail upon thy waters fair, 

To climb high hills and rest us there. 

To gaze about from our retreat, 

And think how tired were our feet. 

To watch the shadows thus, 

All free from care; 

And see them chase each other 

Throug'h the air. 

And then away up High Point, 

Three thousand feet at least; 

We did enjoy our friends, 

And their nice basket feast. 

And on the topmost crag, 

In calm composure snug, 

Viewing the fields below, 

Was a potato bug. 

He seemed a general to be, 

And I have not a doubt, 

Was laying plans for all his hosts 

To eat the people out. 

But tired at last, 



of Overlook 63 

Our steps we did retrace ; 

And on another dav, 

And in another place, 

We sought to try 

The untried darkness 

Underneath a lofty hill. 

We found an artificial cave 

And entered in ; 

We saw the gleaming lights 

Of workmen there ; 

We heard the clanking of their drills 

Among the rocks. 

We heard the blasting thunders roll ; 

We felt the power 

That shook the stones beneath our feet 

And o'er our heads. 

We felt that power, I say. 

And from its presence 

Thought to run away. 

This was near Kingston town, 

That place so far renowned, 

Where kind and jovial friends we found. 

Still further on we strayed, 

Where Washington had stood 

A hundred years before. 

We occupied the self-same chair, 

We passed the self-same door; 

And yet with all our care 

We could not find him there. 

"Gone is the great and good, 

Gone is the brave and true ;" 

In this same spot toiled he, 

And wrought for me and you. 

Yes, to preserve this goodly land 

He toiled just here with head and hand. 



64 B y S no ok 



This place is known in fame, 
And Newburgh is its name. 

And then again we tried 

The steamer's noiseless glide. 

We left at Cornwall's pier 

Without a thought of fear, 

And hardly could refrain, 

While passing down the main, 

Of saying oft again, 

Oh, dear! look here! 

And isn't this queer? 

These banks so steep and high, 

They almost hide the sky. 

And my neck is out of joint 

While looking for West Point. 

And when our eyes were turning 

From that great seat of learning, 

My thoughts did wander back 

Along the rugged track 

Of other days, 

When I was differently engaged, 

Where battle fiercely raged. 

But little time is there 

In musing thus, to spare ; 

And now I do declare 

These sights are very rare. 

We little else could say 

But, Oh ! how beautiful the way, 

How grand, how fair; 

I'd like to live just there. 

But, Ah! too soon 

A host of steeples come in sight, 

And ere the clock is noon, 

We're ready to alight. 



o f Ov erlo ok 65 



It was a lovely day in June 
That pleasure trip was made; 
And we will not forget it soon 
Unless for it we're paid. 
And now we're in New York, 
How wild the people seem ; 
Or, may be, it is Cork, 
Or, is it but a dream? 

The street cars will provide, 
Amid this rushing throng, 

A quiet place to hide; 
So let them jog along. 

Across the city thus we sped, 
From river North to river East, 

And felt as if we needed bread, 
Or something like a feast. 

They ferried us across from Grand, 
Until we readied the other side, 

When glad was I to reach the land 
Where once before I did abide. . 

We found our friends, 

And found them friends indeed ; 
For who is not a friend 

That cloth the hungry feed? 

The city we would see, 

The park we would behold ; 

And that was fun for me, 
And all the rest, I'm told. 



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For Central Park, you know, 

If donkeys you would find, 
Is' just the place to go; 

You'll see them tho' you're blind. 

And rides, and drives, and walks, 
And many a thing that's queer, 
And sails upon the lake, and talks; 
You can enjoy them here. 

We rode upon a car, 

'Twas elevated high, 
It did not seem to jar, 

But really seemed to fly. 

These cars don't feel above the rest, 

Though 'bove the busy throng they live; 

A ride upon them is best 

Of all that city cars can give. 

And then upon the bay we sailed, 

Where ocean steamers ply, 
Where varying tides have never failed, 

TJiere islands we passed by. 

There's Governor's, and Staten, too, 

With forts and cannon many, 
Which can be seen by anv crew 

Without an English penny. 

And ships from all the world are here, 
From England, France, and Spain. 

And although it may strange appear, 
They're going back again. 



o f O v erlo ok 67 

And now we leave the quiet bay 

And launch upon the deep, 
We are not going far away, 

So friends you need not weep. 

The waters now grow clear and blue, 

I wonder at the line, 
I wonder it don't break in two 

Amongst this splashing brine. 

The boat is rocking now too much, 

I hope the wind won't rise, 
For if it keeps on doing such 

I fear that we'll capsize. 

At last we reached the quiet strand 

Behind the sand banks high, 
And how we enjoyed that funny land 

I'll tell you by and by. 

We then and there those sand drifts crossed, 

And went straight on our way; 
We saw the waters, how they tossed 

Their billows and their spray. 

It was the first and only time 

We ever saw Old Ocean's grand display ; 

I hear its roaring still. 

I see the breakers break upon the beach 

And spread themselves in glassy form 

Far up the pebbly strand; 

And then again recede, to meet 

Another rolling, tumbling, rumbling surf. 

And thus, from morn till night, 

From dark till dawn, 

They ever climb, but get no further on. 



68 B y S no ok 

A school of porpoises I saw, 
They plunged along the deep 

And seemed to have but little law, 
Just like a flock of sheep. 

We sought for shells along the shore, 
Then from the surf we ran ; 

And of the treasures, we obtained 
Enough to fill a can. 

And shall I tell about the park, 
With Prospect for its name? 

For we considered it a mark, 
And wished to know its fame. 

We sat within its shady bowers, 
We saw the fountains play; 

How rare and fair those pretty flowers 
That bloomed along our way. 

The swan, the ducks, the sheep, the deer. 

Were viewed by every one, 
And wasn't it a little queer 

That we should have such fun? 

And then again we went to see 

The Camera-Obscura ; 
And if I skip this wondrous sight 

I'm 'fraid you'll act like fury; 

It makes a living picture there 
Of all that walks or stands; 

It can't be beat, I do declare, 
In this or other lands. 



of Overlook 69 

And Greenwood should be mentioned, too 

It is a solemn place : 
For many go there year by year, 

And ne'er their way retrace. 

It is the city of the dead, 

And friends have made it fair 
With flowers and stones, above the heads 

Of dear ones resting there. 

Among them, too, are some of ours, 

No more with us they talk ; 
Yet loving words sound in our ears 

As journeying on we walk. 

Now for New York and all its scenes, 

I think I've said enough. 
There's much that's like a pleasant dream, 

And many a thing that's rough. 

Still, if I'd undertake to write 

The quarter that we saw, 
It would not be a burden light. 

For either pen or claw. 

So skipping Stewart's and Broadway, 

And Tribune building high, 
And Blackwell's, where old Tweed did stay 

While fed on cake and pie, 

And forty 'leven other things, 

Both picturesque and grand, 
Which to my mind my memory brings 

From where I have them canned, 



7° B y S no ok 

I will proceed upon my way, 

And leave the din and care, 
And p'raps come back some other day 

If money I can spare. 

Now, through Jersey we go, 

The land of wonderful stories ; 
How often I've heard, I don't know, 

'Bout British, and Whigs, and Tories. 

But those days are past, 

Those years of darkness are gone ; 

How changed is the scene now at last 
On this, the Centennial's dawn. 

Now, at Trenton we stop, 

There are some in the town we would see ; 
And nothing our visit shall crop, 

Until 'mongst the Quakers we be. 

We attended their meeting, 

No preacher, or books, there appeared, 
But closed with the funniest greeting; 

How different from what we were reared. 

A jail, too, may there be viewed, 
Or, prison, more properly speaking; 

A quiet retreat for the rude, 

And where they must work for their keeping. 

And a bridge at every turn, 

And a score of potteries, or more ; 

There's always something new to learn, 
Unless it seems too great a chore. 



of Overlook 7 1 

The Doctor's house is grand, 

His family is kind and good, 
They have some style at their command, 

Especially when they take their food. 

But we must hasten on, 

We cannot stop to hear sweet singing; 
Nor linger on the pleasant lawn, 

For don't you hear the car bell ringing? 

So stepping on the cars 

And hastening away, 
We're quickly o'er the Delaware 

In Pennsylvania. 

And splendid sights appear 

As quickly on we glide, 
We're coming to the city now 

Where wonders do abide. 

We crossed the Schuylkill stream, 

Or, river, it may be; 
And then the big show came in sight, 

And all cried, "See! oh, see!" 

The flags were flying there 

From scores of standards high. 
How beautiful and grand the scene, 

We'll view it by and by. 

And sure enough we did : 

But, pshaw ! who e'er can tell, 
We could not even see it all : 

I'm sure it was no sell. 



7 2 By Sn o ok 



And where shall I begin. 

Now, that I'm through the fence? 
For if you want the hundredth part, 

There's no use to commence. 

We wandered round the grounds, 

We rested in the shade; 
And saw, oh, dear ! what didn't we see ? 

So much was there displayed. 

We saw the open cars, 

For five cents you could ride 

Around the grounds and back again, 
Clear from the other side. 

We stood upon a tower 

And saw a picture grand, 
We saw the city, streams and parks, 

Which all seemed near at hand. 

So many nations there, 

With finery rich and rare, 
Crowded into those buildings great, 

And no more room to spare. 

The Chinese had a place, 
And something there to do, 

But the queerest of their queeries 
Was their long braided queue. 

And then to see the Japs, 

Those small-eyed, curious chaps, 
With comic look, and jesture too, 

A selling off" their traps ; 



of Overlook 73 

Which were composed, I'm told, 

Of things both new and old ; 
Brought from the ancient fatherland, 

And, gracious ! how they sold. 

And restaurants so many, 

Amongst them Lafayette; 
To see their operations there 

Would make you laugh, I bet. 

To sit beneath the trees 

Upon a wooden bench, 
And listen to their talking queer, 

You'd know at once 'twas French. 

And there was Hunter's Camp 

Within a shady nook ; 
We lingered there to rest and talk, 

Beside a little brook. 

Then to the Dairy went, 

And a few minutes spent 
In eating cream, the very best, 

Until we were content. 

The Agricultural Hall 

Was also by us viewed ; 
'Twas filled with implements and tools, 

And every kind of food, 

Put up in best of style, 

So curious and pretty, 
I do believe their owners were 

Either quite wise or witty. 



74 B y S no ok 

The Government Building, 

No matter what you say, 
Has charms in its departments 

For the whole of one June day. 

And you'd he lost in wonder 

Amid a din like thunder, 
If in Machinery Hall you'd walk 

And even try to talk. 

Such whirling, twirling noise, 
And whanging, banging sound, 

Comes from that complex gearing 
For fourteen acres round. 

And that great engine, too, 

You say what can't it do, 
If with such perfect ease as this 

It drives its power all through. 

And if a scene like this 

Shall cause us to amaze, 
The thoughts of Him who made us all, 

Should cause our thanks and praise. 

Memorial Hall is grand, 
And from its pictures fair, 

Of this and other lands, 

We scarce ourselves could tear. 

And there the sculptor's skill 
In marble may be traced; 

Which can endure for many a year, 
And should not be defaced. 



of Overlook 75 

The Woman's Pavilion 

Just pleased my better half, 
And 'cause I wished to go away 

She thought I was a calf. 

And what was there to see, 

But needlework and lace, 
And all such fine and puttering things, 

I'd choose some other place. 

And just the same took place, 

But in a different way, 
When, 'mongst machinery we strolled 

Upon another day. 

Which proves the saying true, 

Whatever some may say, 
"That boys ain't girls, and girls ain't boys, 

And can't be any way." 

The fountains on the grounds 

Were wondrous, rich and rare, 
The playing waters were so bright, 

Indeed ! we thought them fair. 

And now with all my telling, 
Either in rhyme or spelling, 
I can't forget the Fog Horn's roar, 
Or it's unearthly yelling. 

Nor yet, the pleasant chimes, 

Which we there heard betimes, 
And said by travelers to be 

Like those of other climes. 



76 B y S no ok 

But I've been made to feel 

A sort of joyous pain, 
When from their tower I've heard the peal 

Of "Home again, Home again." 

For e'en a place like this, 

Exciting, grand and gay, 
With all its fine attractions fair, 

Can't drive my home away. 

You see, I love that spot, 

And if I from it roam, 
There's something ringing in my ears, 

A sound of "Home, Sweet Home." 

Now to tell about that Garden, 

(Zoological is its name), 
Where are beasts, and birds, and reptiles, 

Some of which are not so tame. 

And to show them in their fierceness, 
As they appeared upon that day, 

Pr'aps might burst your imagination, 
And I don't believe 'twould pay. 

So I'll mention but a few, 

Such as lion and giraffe, 
Elephant and kangaroo, 

(And the latter made us laugh). 

Alligators, bears and swan, 

And the "Rhy-no-ce-ri-us," 
Fastened in his iron pen, 

So he could not make a fuss. 



of Overlook 77 

We visited the U. S. Mint, 

To see them make up gold ; 
I only wish they'd given us 

As much as we could hold. 

'Twould seem from all that monstrous pile. 

Those bags tied up so tight, 
They might have given a pocket full 

Of coin that glittered bright. . 

Now, as for Philadelphia, 

I've but a word to say; 
And isn't it right to say it now, 

Before I go away? 

The people there were very kind, 

And order was the rule ; 
They must have learned politeness young. 

PVaps when they went to school. 

So good bye, old Centennial, 

We start for home to-day; 
We've had, 'tis true, a pleasant time, 

But longer cannot stay. 

Indeed, we're anxious now to go, 

We're crammed to such extent 
With sights and sounds that here abound, 

That surely we're content. 

So in the cars a seat we'll find — 

No fooling now you see ; — 
It must not be too far behind, 

And large enough for you and me. 



7 8 B y S no ok 

Yes, here it is, now isn't this fun? 

With this gay thought in mind, 
As swiftly o'er the track we run, 

Our Michigan home we'll find 

So as we journeyed on said I, 
"But why these window grates?" 

Said wife, "to keep the stones, I 'spose, 
From falling on our pates." 

Well, I declare! what roads are these? 

It is no time for prose; 
"Look out!" said I, "a mountain passed 

Two inches from your nose." 

O Lehigh! thou'rt sublime and grand, — 
Though "scarey," I confess; 

Thy banks so rocky, steep and wild, 
We couldn't expect less. 

Mauch Chaunk, you know, is on the road ; 

Much Chunks, it ought to be, 
For naught but chunks doth there appear 

As far as you can see. 

And, oh! such long, long trains of coal, 
Were meeting us along that road ; 

The locomotives, sure, were strong, 
To carry such a load. 

So, after hours of uphill ride, 

Along that crooked, rock-bound stream, 
We almost wished that we were home, 

Behind the old farm team. 



of Overlook 79 

But when the summit was attained, 
What grandeur did we there behold? 

While looking o'er the valley fair, 
What sights did there unfold? 

Beneath our feet was old Wilkesbarre, 

A city of far-famed renown, 
And also 'long the shining stream, 

A village and a town. 

And farms, with different colored fields, 
Were scattered through the picture grand ; 

And forest patches, far and near, 
Were dotted o'er the land. 

I wish the cars had stayed awhile, 
And given us time to think and talk; 

Why couldn't they go a little slow, 
And stop their run, and walk. 

But down the grade we're going now, 
We've twenty miles they say to go 

Before we reach the quaint old town 
Which lies so far below. 

Oh, Susquehanna valley fair, 

Although they did not let us stop, 

We saw thy beauties at a glance 
While on the mountain top. 

So on we journeyed at their gait 

And rode, and laughed, and talked all day; 
And finally left the rough old State 

Of Pennsylvania. 



80 B y S no o k 

New York State we again will try, 
We enjoyed it once, you know ; 

And on the Erie road will fly 
To ancient Buffalo. 

For modern Buffaloes, I think, 
Are found much further west, 

Where fierce, wild Indians do abound, 
And the grasshopper pest. 

The Falls were seen and heard by us, 
The great Niagara, you know ; 

And if you've never seen that sight, 
'Twill pay you well to go. 

Be sure and stand below the Falls, 
And cast your eye aloft, and see 

That water mountain rolling o'er, 
Then for your safety flee. 

And at Suspension Bridge, 
As slowly o'er we crossed, 

We saw a man, so wild was he, 
We feared he might be lost. 

He was crossing o'er the rapids, 
(Yes, that and nothing less) ; 

And the way he was about it, 
I'm sure you cannot guess. 

The dashing waters far below 
. Spake not a word of hope; 
As safely o'er the stream he crossed, 
Hung in a basket from a rope. 




OUTING ON ST. CLAIR RIVER 



of Overlook 81 

And have you ever thought to know 

How the ships from far away, 
In their journeys to and fro, 

Pass the dread Niagara? 

Why, they go up and down the stairs, 

Stairs of water, do you say? 
Yes, and it's the least of cares, 

Either in the night or day, 

For the lock-men let them through, 

Lifting, lowering, step by step, 
Either when the sky is blue, 

Or, when darkness round hath crept. 

Ontario Lake we passed along, 

The railroads run so near the shore, 

That from the windows we could see 
The sail-boats floating o'er. 

And we will not forget 

The little Lake St. Clair ; 
For on the other side 
Is our own State so fair. 

So near it? yes, at last, 

So near the loved and true; 
Why don't the car wheels hurry on, 

That we may hasten, too? 

But now, the objects 'long the way 
Seem quite familiar to our sight; 

And hanging on the gate we see 
Our darling baby boy, so bright. 



82 B y S no ok 

And strange to say, yet true it is, 
No other sight so charmed our view 

In all the wonders we have seen 
Since here, we bid our three adieu. 

Our relatives and friends 

We found alive and well; 
And of the "Trip Centennial" 

I have no more to tell. 

For we are now at home 

Just where our trip began, 
In the County of Macomb, 

And State of Michigan. 

So, thanking the Father for keeping and care, 
For the journey abroad, and the comforts at home, 

We go to the labors this life doth afford, 
Contented and happy, not wishing to roam. 



NEW YEAR WISH. 

Be glad and be happy 

My friend, though you're absent, 
Accept this our token, 

A thought for your cheer; 
May memories be strengthened 

And friendship be lengthened 
For there's joy in the wish 

Of a happy new year. 



o f O v erl o ok 83 



OUR OWN SWEET THOUGHTS. 

"Our own sweet thoughts ;" 
How strange the wording seems, 
They come and go like angels, 
Who have met us in our dreams. 

"Our own sweet thoughts;" 
When no clearer friend is nigh, 
How they charm our souls anew, 
Giving not a reason why. 

"Our own sweet thoughts;" 
They cheer us by confiding, 
When some our acts would misconstrue 
By cruel, reckless chiding. 

"Our own sweet thoughts;" 
They meet with others often, 
And thus by truest friendship, 
The ills of life they soften. 

"Our own sweet thoughts ;" 
Refresh our hearts with cheering, 
For visits oft we chide thee not, 
They're all the more endearing. 



84 B y Sno ok 



TAU RHO SIGMA. 

"At the last meeting of the Tau Rho Sigma club held on 
Monday night, April 15, J. J. Snook presented a series of 
original poems, written during the present century. These 
poems possess much merit and the club decided to have them 
published in series. Mr. Snook has written on a variety of 
themes, and the ease and fluency of his style is quite marked. 
Where there is merit we wish to recognize it." — President of 
the Club. 

NO "HOME" WITHOUT LOVE. 

We have heard of "sweet home" and its glory; 

Have heard of its charms always new ; 
Have read it in blank verse and story, 

And thought if 'twere false or 'twere true. 

And what is a home, think it over with me, 
We are certainly anxious to know. 

Is it only a place to stay in and eat in, 
When there's no other place to go? 

There are houses we know, of great grandeur, 
There are dwellings of loftiest dome, 

That could not be called by the title 

Of those dearest of names, "home, sweet 
home." 

For home is a place where love lingers, 
Where it flourishes, blossoms and thrives. 

Where its fruitage is known by its doings, 
In helping and blessing all lives. 

Love's a wonderful plant in its growing; 

Comes down from on high, without doubt, 
But is marred, and sometimes most extinguished, 

By having its life trampled out. 



of Overlook 



85 



Love grows, it is said, like a delicate rose, 
Lives on smiles, good will and kind deeds. 

Its roots must strike deep in a confidence soil, 
And be kept from the blight of foul weeds. 

Yes, there is something for each one to do, 
If we'd keep this best boon from above ; 

There may be a palace, a cottage or house, 
There can be no "home" without love. 



NEATNESS AND DISPATCH. 

This world is not so bad a world, 
But from it we may snatch, 

Profit and pleasure, if we work, 
With neatness and dispatch. 

For time is money, we are told, 
And we should try to catch 

The spirit that would guide our ways, 
With neatness and dispatch. 

Hang up this motto in your mind, 
Then let your actions match. 

Business will prosper, you will find, 
With neatness and dispatch. 



86 B y S n o o k 



CHRONIC CRITICS. 

A grain or two of criticism, 

'Mongst words of praise, if they are due, 
Are right and proper in their place, 

And won't hurt me or you. 

From honest critics. 

But there are those who know naught else, 
Whose only theme is caw, caw, caw. 

They spend their time in hunting flaws 
With greedy beak and claw. 
The chronic critics. 

They cannot stand a hearty laugh, 
There's lack of "culchaw" in it, 

Or the boy that whistles from the heart, 
They can't endure a minute. 

Such chronic critics. 

For fields of bloom they have no eye. 

For happiest bird song have no ear. 
A sunbeam is for them too warm, 

The sky too bright and clear. 
Queer chronic critics. 

They rend good books, tear sweetest song, 
And gems of thought they trample down. 

Their tastes we do not understand, 
Their only smile a frown. 

Those chronic critics. 



of Overlook 87 

To them the whole great world is wrong, 

They find no charm in this or that, 
A perpendicular is too plumb, 

A horizontal most too flat. 
For chronic critics. 



BOBBING UP SERENELY. 

That Mary had a little lamb 
No one would dare to doubt, 

But all are not so well agreed 
Why lammy was turned out. 

'Tis said it went to school one day 
With fleece as white as snow, 

And wished to be among the kids, 
But teacher said, "Not so, 

For kids and lambs are not allowed 
To stay in the same fold." 

So hastily she put the lamb 
Out in the winter's cold. 

'Mongst zero winds and icy storms 
He felt the insult keenly, 

His body froze, but his story goes 
Oft bobbing up serenely. 



88 By Snook 

LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

Lookout Mountain, two miles from Chattanooga, Tenn., is 
and has been for years a renowned summer resort. Its iso- 
lated position and picturesque grandeur make it unusually 
attractive, and as a sentinel, about two thousand feet high, it 
stands overlooking several of the great battlefields of "the 
sixties." 

The following poem was first read at a union meeting of 
the G. A. R. and W. R. C. of this city, May 3, 1901 : 

Have you seen old "Lookout" grand, 
Standing on the plain sublime. 

Lifting high his rocky face 
In a brighter, purer clime ? 

Staunch and strong alone is he, 
Where he's stood for ages past, 

And perhaps will there be standing 
While the lapse of ages last. 

He' is looking off around him 

At the landscape's gorgeous glow, 

And its ever charming beauties 
As the seasons come and go. 

How I wish you could have seen him, 

As I did in days long past; 
Clothed in nature's loveliest garments 

And with grandeur unsurpassed. 

See him in the early morning, 

As the sun's first glimmering light 

Raised the cloud cap from his forehead, 
Showing us his visage bright. 






of Overlook 89 

Or as quickly it was spreading 
O'er the mount with rapid strides, 

Tinting tree tops, rocks, and gorges — 
Making pictures on its sides. 

How this greatness and this beauty 

Filled my soul to overflowing, 
And I thanked the God of heaven 

From a heart that felt its glowing. 

Then, where river, road, and mountain 

Came together at his base, 
There we camped throughout the winter, 

Though it was a lovely place. 

But when Spring returned in mildness, 

Had to move two miles away; 
Still were ever longing, hoping, 
On his top to dwell some day. 

Oft we saw the waving signals 
From the lookout point so high ; 

Telling of the army's movements, 
That were there to do or die. 

And we always will remember 

This great mountain, high and bold, 

As he stood when war was raging 
In those days that tried our soul. 

With what sorrow and what pity. 
Viewed he then the battle raging, 

When a hundred thousand soldiers 
Then each other were engaging. 



9° B y S no ok 

How he gazed at Chattanooga, 
And at Orchard Nob in shrouds ; 

Felt the thunder of artillery 
On himself above the clouds. 

And at bloody Chickamauga, 

With ten thousand dead and dying, 

And at Mission Ridge, in sorrow, 
With the blue and gray there lying. 

Awful deeds — but necessary 

That all men might freedom know — 
There he witnesseth forever 

As the ages come and go. 

Sometimes climbed we to his summit, 
Finally lived upon his brow, 

Saw a hundred things a minute 
That I cannot tell you now. 

Yet a few I'd like to mention, 
Which to choose I hardly know, 

My picture gallery is so full 

And there are none I would let go. 

Now, there's the glittering Tennessee, 
Winding, without a break or joint, 

Round old Cameron as it glides 

Past heel and toe of Moccasin Point. 

One day a dozen boys of us 

Were sitting on this ledge, right here, 
Our feet all hanging over 

While looking at the sky so clear. 



of Overlook 91 

But underneath and far and wide, 

The clouds like the ocean seemed, 
While a few small islands far away 

In the sparkling sunshine gleamed. 

To< us it was a wondrous sight — 

We gazed, we talked, admired — 
By its great beauty we were charmed, 

By its raptures were inspired. 

The boys far down on the plains below 
Said it rained right down like fun, 

But we hadn't seen a single drop 
As we sat there in the sun. 

Going to Lulu Lake and Falls 

Was the greatest treat of any ; 
But they were five rough miles away, 

And not enjoyed by many. 

Seeing a lovely mountain lake 

Is not a very common thing, 
With sides and shores of massive rock 

And surface clear as a crystal spring. 

Right through the forest, wild and rolling, 

The blithe creek rushes along, 
Till at last on the bright lake's bosom 

For a while is lost its song. 

But time is short, the falls are near, 

There's sparkle in its story; 
For seventy feet it's pouring down 

A grand, continuous glory. 



92 B y S no ok 

O Lake of sweet memory's vision, 
O Falls of my gladdest song, 

The name of "Lulu" brings to me 
A charm that will last life long. 

There were rocks on our way returning 
Piled high in a curious way, 

And we boys went under the danger 
For you know that boys will play. 

Rock City we then tried exploring, 
But its streets were so far down, 

To the bottom we looked with caution 
And thought what a queer rock town. 

O rocks, lakes, gorges, streams, and rills, 
With all historic scenes about, 

With sadness now we say adieu 

And leave you on this grand "Lookout. 

And then way down, and farther down 
The dark deep gorge 'tis rushing, 

Till in the valley far beneath 
The meadows 'twill be flushing. 



of Overlook 93 



GOOSE QUILLS, GOOD NIGHT. 

What is the matter with my pen? 
I've tried and tried again 
To have it sparkle with a glow, 
But still it answers, no. 

It will not write about the sky 
For that's so very high ; 
Nor tell about the shimmering moon 
'Cause it goes down so soon; 

Nor yet about the twinkling star 
For it's away so far; 
Nor dazzling sun that hangs in space 
For none may see its face ; 

Nor howling storm with wintry breeze 
For ink would surely freeze; 
Nor banks so high of sparkling snow, 
No thought dare through them go. 

Sun, moon, stars, storm or star-lit sky, 
All from my goose quill fly; 
It cannot scribble thoughts to you 
And so it says, adieu. 

Poetic sparks ignite no flame, 
I'm sure the pen's to blame ; 
By candle light it will not write, 
My lucky friend, good night. 



94 B y S no ok 

[On August 5, 1903, accompanied by my wife, 
and later joined by our son and bride, we sought 
some of the friends and wonders lying between 
Michigan and the Pacific ocean. The following 
hastily written jottings were furnished in communi- 
cations for publication, and afterward and before 
our return put in booklet form for our friends. — 
Author.] 

TRIP AND OUTING. 

LEAVING Beautiful Rochester and the three 
t clear, rapid streams of Avon, with their banks 
of charming landscapes, would seem unneces- 
sary for those seeking the bewitchings of nature, 
and yet it is well sometimes for one to stroll out and 
see by comparison what the world is like. 

From Detroit to Chicago the grandeur of Mich- 
igan, as seen through the dreams of a sleeping-car 
berth, is uneventful till the day-dawn reveals the 
silvery waves of the "Big Lake on the West Side." 
Then gliding along its very edge by the once-famed 
World's Fair grounds — may its memory be ever 
sacred — one watches the miles of stone-filled break- 
water, saying to the splashing tides in unmistakable 
language : "Thou shalt not wash Chicago off the 
map!" 

Northern Illinois and Central Iowa, with their 
great waving fields of corn and grain, and far- 
stretching home-scenes of landscape, interspersed 
with herds of cattle, hogs and horses, only two 
small flocks of sheep being discovered, make vary- 
ing pictures by the hundred. More little colts than 
five years ago presented their neat forms. Did not 
see much clover and but two threshing machines at 



ofOverlook 95 

i 

work, although thousands on thousands of acres of 
oat and wheat shocks were standing in the fields. 
The streams everywhere were swollen and muddy, 
especially the Mississippi and Cedar rivers. 

The double-tracked Northwestern bridge, 3,000 
feet long and 175 feet high, causes one to feel as 
though he were getting up in the world, while the 
woman sharp who is trying to smuggle two large 
children without pay makes it interesting for con- 
ductor and passengers. 

At Woodbine, Iowa, Rev. J. Eugene Snook and 
bride boarded the train and joined us. The next 
morning revealed to our open eyes for perhaps a 
hundred miles, prairie ranches seemingly as flat as 
a floor, and great herds of cattle, some we thought 
a half-mile long — I mean the herds. The North 
Platte, for many miles with all widths and no 
depths or banks, filled with thousands of flat, mostly 
barren, sand islands a few inches high, would fur- 
nish sand enough to make all Nebraskans gritty. 

Well, I got the sand out of my eyes enough to see 
a great variety of land and landscape in Northeast- 
ern Colorado and something of the irrigated fields 
and much-talked-of irrigating ditches and canals. 
With our knowledge and experience concerning 
rivers in the East one might wonder how it could 
be done, but when we come to know that the land is 
quite flat and but little above the water, which has a 
current with a good fall, it is easy to see how these 
ditches can go back into the land at several degrees 
angle and extend sometimes for miles, leaving large 
tracts between it and the river to be watered once a 
week by small streams from the ditches. Many 
fields of corn, oats, alfalfa, and potatoes thus treated 
were looking very good, while in many cases adjoin- 



9 6 B y S no ok 

ing lands not so treated were left to their inherited 
fate of growing short, stunted sage brush. The 
great trouble seems to be that the distant mountains 
do not furnish enough water so that the unfortu- 
nates further down find that the ditches and canals 
have stolen the river dry. We saw perhaps a hun- 
dred miles of dry or nearly dry river bottoms. A 
little space has been taken with this subject, believ- 
ing that many others will be interested as I have 
been, and knowing that it is becoming a problem of 
national discussion. 

Greeley, in the center of one of the best watered 
districts, is well shaded and beautiful. Friends 
would see the sights in a large auto. When the trip 
made our short stay pleasant. At Denver our part) 
was about half completed, as our machine was des- 
cending a sharp grade there came a gliding street 
car, also down grade at right angles. The screams 
of the ladies — I wonder if they were heard in Mich- 
igan — roused the stupid chauffeur and a collision 
was narrowly averted. Two blocks more when he 
came just against the side of a lady's rig, we thought 
best to bid him a hasty good-bye, without compen- 
sation, and would have reported him but for lack of 
time. 

There is nothing longer than the Rocky Mountain 
chain, reaching nearly from the north to the south 
pole and wide enough in some places to satisfy its 
most eager admirers. Pike's Peak is one of the 
links, thousands of which we have seen with bulging 
eyes. Of ©ourse the dwellers of Colorado Springs 
know only the one mountain and try to impress 
it on visitors, but we escaped uninjured by retreat- 
ing into a deep and delightfully shaded canyon, 
whose high upright walls extended many hundred 




OUTING 
MRS. SNOOK CELEBRATES BIRTHDAY AT PIKE'S PEAK 



ofOverlook 97 

feet toward a bright sky. It's lovely, clear, cooling 
stream has just tumbled over the seven solid rock 
falls, whose lateral distance about equals their per- 
pendicular. A thirty-six mile carriage ride through 
two of these stunning gorges, through the Garden 
of the Gods and Manitou, with its great boiling soda 
and iron water springs, free to everyone, with free 
waiters and free grounds, makes one feel refreshed 
in more ways than one. An hundred miniature 
eight by ten photographs would express only a feeble 
idea of the soul-filling grandeur of those immense 
perpendicular, leaning, paradoxical rocks, and one 
might well doubt his eyes when he sees the water 
often running up hill along the charming drives. It 
was a day of dreams more than realized, and we 
were so glad that the mountains had waited all these 
years for us to come and see them. 

The next day we gained five thousand feet more 
altitude, making over eleven thousand feet while 
climbing the edges of precipice and gorge to 
Cripple Creek, the greatest gold fields of the world. 
During these dizzy heights and short curves a person 
is apt to think he has taken his life in his hands, or 
put it in the engineer's, and that his heart has located 
in his throat. About a million dollars in gold is 
taken monthly from these mines, and we believe it 
might just as well be a hundred times more. 

Victor and Goldfield, mining towns, were visited 
in the afternoon, going by "low line" and returning 
by high land electric. The mountains are literally 
covered with dugouts, now the graves of once high 
financial hopes. 

To climb a mountain range by rail and steam, 
through canyons deep, crooked, wild, and awfully 
grand, with towering, overhanging, giant, balanced 



9 8 B y S no ok 

rocks a thousand feet above, poised as maddened 
vultures on every side, disputing the right of way, 
while double engines pant for breath on narrow 
groove or suspended bridge above a cataract of 
raging, foaming torrents, whose roars of pain from 
being dashed from cruel rock to rock, even drown 
the noise of rumbling, echoing train, is to put one 
in a position where he becomes for the time very 
small and frail, but, gaining self-possession and 
courage because not at once killed, he begins to 
wonder what holds the great cracked, jagged moun- 
tains above his head, while companions begin to 
shout, "O, look way up there!" "On the other 
side!" "Look back!" "O, do look down quick!" 
till one thinks, "O, my neck!" and wishes he had a 
rubber one. Then sudden as a lightning flash a 
thousand thrills are buried in the blackness of a 
tunnel for a moment's reflection, only to burst again 
on grandeur still more grand. 

Finally the great walls begin to have more slope, 
and the angry stream fewer cataracts and falls, the 
hours and the everlasting hills glide by, yet still 
we're climbing, climbing. Way down in valleys, 
deep, small cultivated patches cheer the eye, and 
just close by, almost within our reach, in great pro- 
fusion, the wild mountain flowers — God bless them 
— are nodding a welcome as we pass. The air is 
pure and thin and cool. The altitude (11,000 feet) 
makes even engines puff. We glance about on 
mountain peaks by hundreds, wondering at snow- 
filled gulches that an August sun has not subdued. 
O, Rockies, wild and high and bare, who yet has 
guessed the treasures in your bosom stored ? 

And then descending the scarey track was a half 
day's pleasure among other delights, to see a trick- 



o f O v erlo ok 99 



ling rill grow to be a clear mountain stream with 
numerous falls and rapid torrents, gradually blos- 
soming into a river of majestic proportions. As 
the mountains are higher than the plain, so are their 
ecstacy and charm high above and beyond the des- 
criptive powers of picture or pen. 

Salt Lake City, with its fresh, irrigated surround- 
ings, is as an oasis in the great, bleak, hot desert of 
Utah. The city, with its broad streets and rapid 
running water on either side, its large business 
blocks and grand hotels, is a fit resting-place for 
weary travelers who have spent one of the longest 
days of their lives in viewing sand-dunes and drift- 
ing sands over a treeless, grassless desert, whose 
most fitting description would be a blank page. The 
"Lake" itself was a great disappointment, though 
we took a special ride of fifteen miles over the flat, 
salty plains toward its center, and afterwards skirt- 
ing its great basin for nearly a hundred miles. Its 
waters have settled nearly ten feet in as many years, 
leaving a half-mile beach of salt sand not very 
agreeable to look upon. 

Scaling and descending the Sierra Nevada by 
curves and loops, 'mongst gorges deep and wild, or 
from their summit watching the peaks play "peek- 
a-boo," was a day of contrasts and surprises. The 
great pine forest around Lakes Donner and Webber 
were inspiring with freshness and beauty. Finally 
it was announced that we were in California — a 
state with a Golden Gate — and eagerly we scanned. 
We saw the gold hills, partly washed away by 
mountain torrents piped for that purpose, the gold 
being separated, the mud filling the rivers below to 
such an extent that the state had to interfere in their 
defence. The orchards and vineyards soon put in 

LOFCX 



ioo By Snook 

an appearance, to our delight; but too soon night's 
curtain settled down on the beautiful landscape and 
our belated train. 

San Francisco, or 'Frisco, with its steep habitated 
hills and business bustle, skirted with forests of 
masts and steam ocean crafts, and beautiful Oakland 
and Berkley, just across the bay, are as much one 
city in mutual interest as are New York and Brook- 
lyn. The flowery lawns of Oakland, decorated with 
tropical palms of great magnitude, some of whose 
trunks are at least three feet in diameter, with their 
great variegated, overhanging leaf stalks of 12 or 
15 feet in length, are the admiration of those whose 
severer winters forbid such out-door treasures. But 
the green fields and hillsides of Michigan are missed 
here on account of a rainless summer. 

We are fortunate in being in 'Frisco at the same 
time as the national G. A. R. Encampment, and are 
thrilled by the great parade of justly proud and 
patriotic volunteers with their battle-stained banners 
and emblems carried by them in the dark days of 
long ago, when they heroically defended our coun- 
try's very life. We were delighted also with the 
right royal entertainment given the veterans, espe- 
cially of the magnificent arches in their honor, and 
the miles of electrical displays. 

One of the natural monuments, the pride, and 
justly so, of these cities, is Mt. Tamalpais, standing 
out more than 2,000 feet above the busy throngs 
and splashing tides. Its ascent was made easy by 
kind relatives and the steepest and crookedest rail- 
way we have yet seen. It seemed as if the road 
were all short turns on very many half-circle high 
bridges, looking down on gorges of alarming depth. 
We seriously doubted the "double-bow-knot" illus- 



o f Ov erlo ok 101 

tration on the time card, but found it true while 
passing and repassing and saw it from the rocky 
peak as plainly as on the card. The engine that 
pushed the small train of open cars was something 
new to us, being on very small wheels propelled 
with long side-geared shafting by rapid-working 
arms from the sides of the engine, and its curious 
antics, together with its visible, roaring flames at 
every turn, often attracted attention from the dizzy 
heights. A lunch at the "tavern" and grand views 
from the summit, of cities, valleys, distant mountains 
and serf-lined ocean, with a descent at first almost 
dreaded but finally enjoyed, filled a great day. 

Our relatives made the "Golden Gate" seem still 
brighter by a trip thither including the immense 
glass ocean bath house, "Cliff House," and the great 
seal rocks where scores of wild seals have sported 
and dried themselves and where they have played 
in the wild, dashing sea for no one knows how 
long; and the great private garden near by filled 
with hundreds of all kinds of statuary, flowers, 
plants and tropical trees, was a wonder not only for 
its exquisite beauty but also for its free entrance. 
Golden Gate Park must not be missed, for it is justly 
'Frisco's pride, having been transformed from a 
desert sand hill, and has not only been made to 
"blossom as the rose," but with a million roses and 
lovely flowers in great profusion. 

Sailing day for the young missionaries came 
all too soon, and their departure on the "Ameri- 
can Maru" via Honolulu, Japan and Hong Kong, 
for their far off field of labor near Manilla, P. I., 
was a scene and an occasion not to be forgotten by 
parents and friends, filled with a flood of a thousand 
thoughts and emotions. 



io2 By Snook 

A delightful ocean trip of 500 miles on the steamer 
"Santa Rosa" commenced by viewing the fortified 
hills on either side of the Golden Gate, a narrow 
passage only a mile wide and 400 feet deep. Then 
rounding the left gate post we were in good view 
of the seal rocks, where scores of these huge, sleek 
fish-animals have been sporting probably since the 
year one. 

A trip on the sea depends largely on conditions 
and weather. No fog, light clouds and a rolling, 
plunging sea were our good fortune for the first 
day. Soon to our delight spouting whales were 
seen, some quite near the ship, and one for our 
amusement tried to stand on his head, showing an 
immense tail above the rolling billows. We counted 
nine ocean splashers and were greedy enough to 
want to see more. Standing at the rear of the 
boat — perhaps this is not a sailor's phrase — and see- 
ing and feeling ourselves sink down, down till the 
breaking waves obstruct the distant white cap view, 
is to have a sensation like going down an elevator, 
and wonderirig if some time it might not forget to 
rise on the billows' crest. While viewing the ever- 
changing swells we often remarked to wife how 
could our ship have gotten over those great hills 
and valleys. We were sorry when darkness came 
and their splashings could only be heard and their 
jar against»the steamer felt. 

Daylight found us landing at Santa Barbara, in 
waters as quiet and glassy as Lake Orion ever knew. 
The next half-day was very calm and a large num- 
ber of passengers, among other diversions, enjoyed 
music and singing. Having completed our trip on 
the trackless sea we were ready to land at Santa 
Monica and take a 27-mile railroad ride to Los 



of Overlook 103 

Angeles, the Queen of Southern California, a fure, 
beautiful, bustling city of 130,000 people. 

A ride of 150 miles on the kite-shaped track 
through the noted fruit fields of the San Gaberal 
Valley showed us orange, lemon, English walnut 
groves and other fruits by the million. That the 
goddesses Flora and Pomona dwell in Southern Cal- 
ifornia is not doubted by the inhabitants of that 
region, and that Pomona has her headquarters at 
orange castle on Smiley Heights near the city of 
Redlands, is a foregone conclusion. Ceres, the othet 
member of that trio, is more likely to be found in 
Iowa, Ohio or "Michigan, My Michigan." 

A day's outing at Long Beach, where the Califor- 
nia state veterans are camping for ten days, and 
where the rolling, dashing surf makes answer to 
their good times and cannonadings, was grand, while 
the hundreds of surf and sand swimmers with their 
extremities clad only in Nature's garb, reminded one 
of the South Sea Islanders at the World's Fair, 
Chicago. 

Now I am tempted to tell another "whale" story, 
though I know the fate of most fish stories — one 
better. In the public park at Long Beach is the per- 
fect skeleton of a whale that beached himself six 
years ago two miles below the village. He was alive 
when discovered, and his skeleton is now suspended 
in a long double shed enclosed on every side with 
heavy wire netting. They say it is 65 feet long— 
I made it 24 paces. Its mouth is 15 feet by 7 feet 
wide, ribs from 6 to 8 feet long, and its skeleton 
some 12 feet in widest place. It was indeed a great 
sight for us. Now, if you don't believe me go and 
see for yourself, as the fellow said. When the young 
lady friend who was escorting us through the park, 



104 By Snook 

and who remembered its being found, remarked 
that the passengers from a shipwrecked vessel would 
just about make a meal for such a fish, we shud- 
dered and were almost glad that we were going back 
by rail. 

After passing for miles along and over dry sandy 
rivers so common and not very inspiring, during a 
rainless summer in Southern California, otherwise 
beautiful, we disappeared into what seemed to us 
the longest, smokiest tunnel of our experience. And 
how delightful the dawning of a deep, narrow, but 
ever-widening valley, seemed to us can be easil) 
imagined. 

The literary portion of our car were greatly en- 
thused by the statement that "Ramona's" old home 
and fenced grave would soon be visible from the car 
windows, all of which we found true, to our delight. 
Of course the romantic and dramatic story of those 
early pioneer times made the lovely scenery still 
more fascinating. But awakening from our fancy's 
dreaming, we saw miles of almost uninterrupted 
fields of beans covering the ranches, and then again 
sweet potatoes were crowding out nearly every crop, 
till the long, and now wide valley, terminated 
against the never-ceasing ocean waves, along whose 
winding, splashing beaches we found a hundred 
miles of crooked, rocky, refreshing ways. 

At one place oil derricks were numerous, many of 
which were standing on timber docks many hundred 
feet from shore, and naturally the question arose, in 
spite of fish-story doubters, was it whale oil they 
were taking from the bottom of the sea? 

Passing San Jose— pronounced San Hozay — and 
a hundred points of interest, we finally reached Palo 
Alto, the near-by station of the wide-renowned Le- 



of Overlook 105 

land Stanford University, with its $25,000,000 en- 
dowment, its 8,000 feet of imposing stone corridors, 
around and among buildings as fine and grand as 
the old or new world could suggest. In the central 
court is the beautiful memorial church with its 
$16,000 organ, having 3015 pipes; marble statuary 
and mosaic pictures and windows of very fine mosaic 
unsurpassed. We were impressed and pleased with 
everything and with the inscription, ''Dedicated to 
the glory of God and the good of humanity." The 
great memorial archway is 100 feet high and nearly 
as wide, and all around it near the top are hundreds 
of figures in human form, 14 feet in height, repre- 
senting the march of the world's progress. Surely 
the rich widow, whose gift the university is, hath 
done what she could. 

Leaving 'Frisco and its dear friends for an 800- 
mile northern ride, we found 100 miles distant other 
homes and hearts at the state capital. We also 
attended the state fair at Sacramento, and must con- 
fess disappointment in its agricultural and mechani- 
cal departments. Then starting northward, great 
level wheat fields for scores of miles up the wide 
valley, where sixteen-foot-cut headers threshed and 
bagged the grain, leaving the straw behind, was for 
a while, at least, a change from mountains, fruits 
and rills. But reaching the hill country we stopped 
over night, as is our custom, so that a person with 
both eyes wide open might be able to see the more 
and better. In early morning we left Reading bent 
on the discovery of the great prize, the ever-snow- 
capped Mt. Shasta. And to it and kind friends 
remembered we dedicate the following lines com- 
posed while inspired by its presence : 



io6 By Snook 

From level wheat fields brown, 
On Sacramento's plain, 

One torrid summer day, 

We sped our way, 

On track of polished steel 

And whirling wheel, 
Escaping thus from sweltering farms 
To Shasta's cooling charms. 

The Giant Monarch grand, 
One of the white-crowned kings, 

Stood up with head so high 

Toward the sky, 

That hills around 

Seemed as the ground, 
And only dared to grow the pine 
Or bush and trailing vine. 

And then the inspiration 
Of its great presence near; 

Its friendship in our need 

A kindly deed, 

That gladdened us anew, 

As it would you, 
Were as the friends who day by day 
Refreshed us on our way. 

And from it as from them, 
We're loth to say adieu ; 

We send a backward glance, 

That if perchance, 

One recognition still 

Our hearts may thrill. 
How many times we cannot tell, 
We waved farewell, farewell. 



o f Ov erlo ok 107 

Entering the Siskiyou mountain tunnel, at the pin- 
nacle of our day's whirl, we saw no more our white- 
domed friend, but viewed far below a most delight 
ful green valley of fields and homes, made still 
more beautiful by the contrast of rugged mountains 
on either side. 

Soon the state of Oregon was reached, with cli- 
mate and surroundings similar to the pioneer days 
of Michigan. Many hop fields were observed, and 
plum orchards that received our admiration and 
sympathy for the loads they bore and were unable 
to bear, many trees being broken and the ground 
underneath being blue, red or yellow, according to 
kind, where hogs helping to gather the fruit, seemed 
"plum full." Other good fruits with varying farm 
crops, rather late, and straight and tall timber made 
up the picture. 

Portland sheltered us during a rainy night, and 
our stay in Tacoma was only too short. 

To hear a pleasant sound is grand, to hear and 
see a beautiful sound is grander. To hear, see and 
ride upon a charming sound (Puget) with its never- 
unveiled, white-gowned sentinel, Mt. Raneir, in 
plain view for hours, is as a pleasant dream fully 
realized. 

The battleship "New York" was at the navy yard, 
and its seven stories, its 600 men and wonderful 
munitions of war, were fully inspected by our party, 
who pronounced the giant floating battery, great, 
great, very great. 

Seattle, like 'Frisco and Rome, is built on many 
hills, and is destined to be a great sea-port. The 
freshness and briskness of western Washington air 
and life is plainly felt, and its fir trees, as straight 
as arrows, many of which are 200 feet high, holding 



108 By Snook 

their size wonderfully, beat any lumber forest we 
have yet seen. But eastern Washington with its 
arid plains, Indian reservations and sage brush along 
the Northern Pacific R. R., was not so charming till 
reaching Spokane, a beautiful city with waterfalls 
and cataracts of great grandeur, and numerous 
waterpowers of almost unlimited strength. But 
leaving it with hesitation as one would a new-made 
friend, we again boarded the cars and soon found 
ourselves among the northern mountains of Idaho, 
from which we caught glimpses of British Columbia 
hills, and were delighted in crossing and nearly en- 
circling by rail, for an hour or more, the beautiful 
upland body of water, Lake Ponderay. 

Then after ascending and descending clear, rapid, 
dashing, mountain-sided streams, we glided through 
valleys at times narrow, rugged and jagged, and 
then again widening to little irrigated plains of ver- 
nal beauty — one of which bears the expressive name 
of Paradise. Strange (to say our train seldom 
stopped at such places. So after nighting at Mis- 
soula, we soon found ourselves on Butte's smoky 
hillsides, the greatest copper mining camp in the 
world. A large city that claims to have more timber 
under than in the buildings above ground. The 
Columbia gardens, some two miles distant, Butte's 
only park, is a gem set in a glen. With mountains 
on three sides it looks out on the city who claim it 
as their joy and pride, although owned by a trolley 
company. Its extensive pansy beds and banks, of 
which we never saw larger or as beautiful, were 
doubly charming on account of barren surroundings. 

But friends must part, and only twelve miles of 
climbing brought us to the awfully rocky backbone 
of the Rockies where great stones by thousands are 



of Overlook 109 

standing - on edge, supporting other huge balanced 
rocks, that in their turn hold others in almost un- 
believable poise. For miles these seemingly para- 
doxical mountains charm and awe the traveler, and 
why they do not come thundering down from their 
dizzy heights, is not for us to say. But passing 
through one of the great links of this huge chain of 
peaks, some of which God in nature has forged of 
gold, some of copper and others of iron and pre- 
cious stones, we wound our winding way around 
lofty hooks and scarey crooks, by pleasant, blushing 
nooks, to valleys green — refreshing. 

Why people should want to see the "Bad Lands" 
of eastern Montana and western North Dakota, in- 
stead of good lands, might at first be wondered at. 
Not so when one has seen the indescribable dif- 
ferent colored, jagged, streaked, stone-capped hill 
and dark, spooky gulches of a region of which some 
truthful (?) westerner has said "where you may see 
petrified birds sitting on petrified limbs of petrified 
trees singing petrified songs. " 

Crossing the Missouri River at Bismarck, a better 
agricultural country is entered, which increases from 
rolling prairie pasturage to more level tillable plains. 
At Sanborn, North Dakota, friends treated us to 
nearly a hundred miles of carriage drives over seem- 
ingly almost boundless, mostly cultivated, but tree- 
less and nearly fenceless prairies. The soil is a dark 
loam. Roads and "cut-across" trails good. About 
sixty miles one brisk clear day, with a fine double 
rig was a refreshing pleasure. Thousands of mea- 
dow larks flew up before us, and several coveys of 
prairie chicken, wild ducks, a ground owl near by 
guarding his cave, jack rabbits, a badger and numer- 
ous gophers were among the original inhabitants 



no By S no o k 

discovered. Many machines threshing wheat and 
flax were seen. We stopped to see a six-horse header 
cutting flax, the machine going ahead of horses. It 
appeared businesslike to see ten teams drawing 
shocks of wheat, two of which were always on either 
side of the threshing machine where bundles were 
constantly pitched on band cutting elevators, the 
grain running from an upper pipe into wagon boxes 
holding one hundred bushels or more. The scenery 
in North Dakota is certainly a contrast to that 
passed during the last seven weeks. 

Minnesota, with similar grain production in south 
and central sections, and lumber in northern portion, 
makes up a great state. Ada and Crookston, with 
their friends, and the most northern of the U. S. 
experimental stations, were well worth seeing, even 
in the rain. Taking a ten-mile trolley ride between 
the rival cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, under 
the guidance of an intelligent new-made friend, we 
were offended at Minneapolis for discharging a min- 
ister because he had taken his text from St. Paul. 
At first, Wisconsin by the Northwestern seemed 
beautiful, with fertile green hills and lovely frost- 
bedecked forest patches, but soon changed to a long 
stretch of low poor land, which some day must have 
been a lake bottom. Still farther we were surprised 
by scores of great high nature temples of picturesque 
rock, standing erect and alone on the plain. Reach- 
ing Madison, the capital, before dark, we were de- 
lighted with its surroundings and beautiful lakes. 

Illinois and Indiana, noted for grains, vegetables, 
grasses and stock, but small amounts of fruit, is 
passed ere Michigan is reached, a land of the great- 
est variety of mixed farming and mechanical indus- 
tries we have observed in seven thousand miles of 



of Overlook in 

sight-seeing. In her not over-rolling green tree- 
bedecked hills, and silvery lakes and fertile plains 
are found a joy and satisfaction. 

Hoping that my readers and friends have enjoyed 
these necessarily hurried, short jottings, I assure you, 
that although I have gleaned a little knowledge, and 
much of pleasure, yet I am more fully aware than 
ever that what I have not learned would reach 
higher than the Rocky Mountains and spread out 
broader than the Pacific Ocean. 



A MILLION SPARKLES. 

When from the darkest night 
The ice-bound twigs awakening, 

Behold the sun in glory rise, 
'Twas beauty, no mistaking. 

In its first flashing glow 

All trees and shrubs adorning, 

A million sparkles seemed to say, 
Good morning, O! good morning. 

My heart responds with joy 

To such unusual greeting, 
And answers quick in speech unheard 

By an exultant beating. 



ii2 By Snook 



HOW THE MIND GROWS. 

We have all received a mind, 

Of a truly wondrous kind, 

That can choose the right to-day, 

Or keep the wrong. 
And as mind is made to grow, 
By the thoughts that come and go, 
We should choose the food by which 

It is made strong. 

Strong for good, or strong for ill, 
As the mind with thoughts we fill, 
For, u As he thinketh, so is he," 

The wise words say. 
Then let's fill the soul with good, 
And kind thoughts, as we should, 
So a harvest glad we'll reap, 

From day to day. 

Then in mind, as in the field, 
We expect to know the yield, 
By the kind of seed and 

Cultivation given. 
If we let the foul weeds grow 
They will choke the good, we know, 
And to own its sorry plight 

We will be driven. 



of Overloo k 113 

If we cultivate a love, 

For the Father that's above, 

And "good will" to people all, 

Both high and low, 
Our garden will be bright, 
With blossoms of the right, 
And ourselves, and others, too, 

Will share its glow. 



MOUNTAINS. 

I love the mountains in their strength and grandeur, 

Unshaken by time's rude relentless hand, 

No vacillating or eccentric notions, 

The most substantial thing in all the land. 

Inviting us by good example ever, 

In higher, brighter, purer air to climb. 

Their rough exterior charms our admiration. 

There's inspiration in their lofty presence. 

They fill so full our minds with thoughts sublime, 

Bold, jagged overhanging crags appall, 

And then in contrast, finest tints are blending, 

With loveliest charm of beauty over all. 

My thoughts oft wander up thy rugged sides. 

But on thy pinnacle they reach their goal, 

With other precious treasures stowed away, 

I keep a place for mountains in my soul. 



ii4 By Snook 

A CAT-A-STORY. 

Of all things that the women prize 
And view in pride with loving eyes, 

No matter whether this or that, 
It is a new and stylish hat. 

It must be trimmed just thus and so, 
With here and there a sprig or bow; 

Flowers some choose, a feather, or wing, 
Arranged for winter, fall, or spring. 

Dainty and beautiful 'tmust seem 
As any peach or lovely dream, 

For in her heart this truth has dawned. 
Her hat and smile must correspond. 

I knew a lady — mostly glad — 
Who one time got a little mad, 

For after having long to wait 
She'd got a dandy, up to date. 

And put it in a band-box neat 

Where she could keep it fresh and sweet, 

But, horrors ! ! when she went for mittens, 
She found in hat a nest of kittens. 

And then — what followed, do you say? 

I do not know — I came away ; 
But later by her side I sat — 

Not so — the kittens and the cat. 



of Overlook 115 



SNOW STORM. 

You cannot make poetry of snow, — ■ 
It lacks the warmth, it lacks the glow; 

The verses bank, the lines drift in, 
'Twere better never to begin. 

And yet there's beauty in its whiteness 

And sparkle in its brightness; 
It helps somehow the sleigh bells jingle, 

And makes our nose and fingers tingle. 

It numbs our feet, flies in our face, 

Drifts in the road, and slows our pace. 

But after all 'twere dull to go, 

The whole year through, without some snow. 

What would children do without it? 

Ask the boys and girls about it ; 
How their faces will be glowing 

When you tell them it is snowing. 

Oh, where would they coast, or where slide ? 

Or jump on the bobs for a ride? 
There's fun for the children, that's so, 

When coasting or riding on snow. 

Or the jolly sleigh loads of young folks, 

So full of their antics and jokes, 
With happy songs, laughter and glee, 

Without snow, Oh, where would they be? 

Then hail to the snow as it falls 

Full of flakes and round little balls, 

'Twould be tedious and dull as you know, 
To live in a land without snow. 



ii6 By Snook 



OUR LITTLE COLONEL. 

WRITTEN IN MEMORY OF COL. HEBER LE FAVOUR. 

He needs no word of praise from us! 
His actions in the past 
And deeds heroic 
Fresh in our memories last, 
And grow more vernal 
As we remember now alas, 
Our little Colonel. 

He needs no word of praise from us! 
In days most dark and drear 
He left his home, 
And, with a conscience clear 
And trust supernal, 
Went with us boys the land to save — 
Our little Colonel. 

He needs no word of praise from us! 
We've seen him in the camp 
And on the field, 
In weather dry and damp, 
And where our brave boys fell ; 
Ever the same both kind and true, 
Our little Colonel. 

He needs no word of praise from us! 
Le Favour is a name 
To us most dear; 
And written high in fame, 
No hand infernal 

Dare scratch a tarnish on this name, — 
Our little Colonel. 



of Overlook 117 

He needs no word of praise from us! 
Yet we would give it now 
In this drear hour 
While sadly here we bow. 
This truth's eternal; 
We loved the brave and gallant man, — 
Our little Colonel. 



FLOWERS AND CHILDREN. 

Some people spend hours in caring for flowers, 
Which are good in their place, but alack and alas ! 

They have scarcely time for the training of children, 
And no time at all for a Sunday school class. 

A few flowers are good and we all love them dearly. 
But the fruits of good works are most beautiful, 
too. 
Have you thought how our influence might go on 
forever, 
If spent in the training of minds that are new. 

Think it over, kind friend, think it over once more, 
Which is best for ourselves, which'll give the most 
joy, 
Which will do the most good in the world we pass 
through, 
To Care for a flower, or care for a boy. 

Then divide up the time, give the children a share, 
Teach them kindness of heart, and courage that's 
true. 

Let them raise both the flowers of beauty and duty. 
'Twill be better for them, and better for you. 



n8 By Snook 



THRIFTY HOMES. 

There are homes in the city 

And homes in the country, 
There are large homes and small homes, 

Homes modest and grand; 
But give me the kinds 

That are happy and thrifty, 
They're the ones that are needed 

To build up the land. 

I care not though humble 

Their feeble beginning, 
If for thrift and advancement 

They only aspire; 
They'll strengthen the moral 

While in knowledge progressing, 
And in finance they're sure 

To be climbing up higher. 

There'll be working together 

And planning in concert, 
Each one making dearer 

The home loving bands ; , 
Then hail to the noble, 

The good and the thrifty 
Who build the true mansions 

With hearts and with hands. 

Such homes are the outcome 

Of careful instruction, 
With its line upon line 

And good-will as the rod; 



of Overlook 119 

For this greatest of gifts, 

With its happy relations, 
We here dedicate home 

To love, friendship and God. 



TWO LITTLE FRIENDS. 

Please is a wondrous word, 

Not just like any other, 
A loving child is she, 

And Thank You is her brother. 

Hand in hand they journeyed 

Or played along the way, 
And looked so sweet and happy 

I've asked them in to stay. 

Now since they live with me 
I'll send them out no more. 

For Thank You fills the wood box 
And Please, she shuts the door. 

And I am happier now 

With these little folks about; 

They are that kind and courteous 
I'll never turn them out. 

So while you work or play, 

As busy as the bees, 
Pray don't forget our Thank You 

And please remember Please. 



i2o B y S no ok 



HAND IN HAND. 

Hand in hand, my wife and I 
Roam the fields of Overlook, 

Walk its lanes and woodland roads 
Resting in poetic nook. 

Hand in hand from week to week, 
Watch the growing ripening grain, 

And from eating half-ripe fruit 
Hardly can ourselves restrain. 

Hand in hand from forest shades 
Dressed in emerald leafy goods, 

We from arching bowers fair 

Look through windows of the woods. 

To the hillside's changing charms, 
Where is cloudlet's shadowy flight, 

Chased by laughing sunbeams gay, 
Seen from out these windows bright. 

Hand in hand makes life a song 

Full of harmony, 'tis said, 
Causes sunshine everywhere, 

Earth beneath and sky o'er head. 

Hand in hand the flowers among, 
Charmed we are with fragrant beauty, 

How can we get back again 
To life's common work and duty ? 




> •• * 4n 



THE DRIVEWAY OVERLOOK 



of Overlook 121 

MY GAY BABY DRESS. 

ON READING HER LETTER CONTAINING THESE FACTS. 

Some long years ago 

'T might be many or less, 
A plump dimpled girl 

Made a gay colored dress. 

It was for her nephew 

Whose clothing seemed scanty, 

For the chub of a bub 
Who lived in a shanty. 

A fifty cent print 

Her mind seemed to fill, 
And it took a week's work 

To settle the bill. 

Then in her spare moments, 

To 'sprise my fond mother, 
She cut it and made it 

Not like any other. 

The girls then all kissed me — 

Not now — as is known, 
Perhaps 'cause I'm older 

And sweeter have grown. 

Take notice, my friends, 

This page is for auntie, 
Who made the gay dress 

For the babe in the shanty. 



122 By Snook 

THE OLD VIOLIN. 

The old violin with its memories dear, 
We welcome it now as a friend tried and true, 

Its charmings and soothings are fresh in our mind, 
We know by experience what it can do. 

Chorus: 

We love it, we love it, the old violin, 

For what it is now and for what it has been. 

The old violin with strains tenderly fine 

How it mellows the soul and touches the heart; 

How it gracefully blends in harmony sweet 
With music and song, as it carries its part. 

Chorus: 

Or in striking the chords of a jubilant strain, 
How it quickens the pulse to livelier pace; 

How the arm, and the bow, and delicate strings 
With each other vie in a musical race. 

Chorus: 

But the nezv violin, a contrast indeed ; 

When the amateur draws the bow o'er the strings, 
Comparison only is fitly expressed 

By the noise that a cat fight usually brings. 

Chorus: 



of Overlook 123 

The feline skulks off with a glare in her eye, 
The dog howls in pain at the terrible din, 

At the back-breaking, nerve-killing strains of the 
Torturesome boy and his new violin. 

Chorus: 

But the girls seem to like it for reasons I've guessed, 
For guessing will do when you really don't know, 

That when it sounds forth, with its worst or its best, 
Wherever it is, there is always a bow. 

Chorus: 

We love it, we love it, the old violin, 

For what it is now and for what it has been. 



BEAUTY AND UTILITY. 

In rambling through this world so fair 
Where do we pause best satisfied, 

But in the fields and nooks of fruitage 
Where joys in double richness hide? 

They charm both eye and taste combined, 
In every place are met with glee, 

And have their beauty and attraction 
In lustre and utility. 

Who does not love trees, plants and vines 
With all their leaflets, stalks, and roots? 

Then take them from our Father's hand, 
These luscious, lovely, fragrant fruits. 



i24 By Snook 



WOMEN AND WAR. 

LIKE a dream of the night, seems the memory 
of those dark days, when "Uncle Sam" found 
it necessary to call for all his loyal volun- 
teers. What they did, what they endured, and alas, 
how many of them came not back, is too well 
known. Indeed, the true stories told by survivors 
are too shocking and wonderful for continued 
rehearsal, to say nothing of another kind of stories 
which sometimes possibly grow, I am sorry to say, 
with repeating. 

Three or four years without home, without bed, 
without butter, without bread, without vegetables, 
or steak without eggs, without cake, mean some- 
thing to young men reared in a land of plenty — 
not even mentioning pie. No home restraint, no 
society, no Sunday, no piety, I was almost going to 
say, but will not, for there were men in the army, 
and many of them, as good and true in every way, 
as any I have known out of it, brave men, who were 
happy in their country's service, and daring to do 
right under trying and adverse circumstances. But 
while thousands of brave men at the front suffered 
fought, and died, defending their country and its 
very life ; thousands of women in sad anxious homes 
labored, waited, sighed, and wept. O the tears of 
a nation ! Years of tears! Had you thought of the 
dreadful anxiety and suspense of mothers, sisters, 
sweethearts, wives and widows, brave, tender hearts, 
many of whom have sustained, even while dispens- 
ing hope and joy, a lifelong conflict with grief and 
sorrow. 



of Overlook 125 

Few women could, or did, visit their dear ones, 
where any day or hour the march, or the battle's 
confusion might be their portion. My mother, 
however, was one who did. Hearing that I was 
very sick in hospital and not expected to survive, she 
left home and her year-old child, and after long 
journeying crossed from Cincinnati to Covington, 
where she found, what she had known before start- 
ing, Kentucky in a desperate condition of alarm and 
war, with half their sons in either army. Cars were 
unable to move, the country travel endangered every- 
where by raiders and horse-thieves. Knowing that 
the 22nd Michigan V. I. had moved in the direction 
of Lexington with its munitions, hospital, and am- 
bulances, she tried in vain for some time to hire a rig 
for pursuing, none daring to trust their teams, or 
themselves to the wild uncertain conditions. "No, not 
they, a hundred armed soldiers would not be safe." 
Finally, however, a man was found who> for a big 
price would undertake the journey. She stopped at 
Snow's Pond where the regiment had camped a 
couple of weeks, and where, on boiling the water 
in their camp kettles, the soldiers had each time to 
take off a green scum half an inch thick. She knew 
that I had marched from that camp and at night had 
sunk down with a raging fever. She inquired dili- 
gently along the way and stopped where the soldiers 
or their sick had camped. The old colored women 
were the most attentive and sympathetic generally. 
They had seen the sick carried from the ambulances 
to the large white tents or vacant houses or de- 
serted hotels — had seen them again carried out, and 
feet first, gently pushed into those double-decked 
wagons, containing four soldiers each, — two above 
and two below. Had seen some carried out and 



126 By Snook 

buried in their soldier clothes, "under dem trees 
yonder." But who they were or what regiment, 
none knew. "Was it my boy? Is he under that 
mound of earth? or is he yet in the hospital where 
I may reach him and nurse him back to life and 
health?" 

Tell me not that only in the breast of man, dwells 
courage undaunted, bravery that knows not fear, 
and patriotism as yet unquenched. O women of our 
land, brave, gentle, noble, patriotic women — to for- 
get thee, and thy works of love and devotion, were 
a sin too great for man. 

For several days they followed our camping and 
marching trail, with the same awful uncertainty, 
where I had rode for sixty slow, long, weary miles ; 
being daily carried in at night and out in the morn- 
ing. After more than a hundred miles driving and 
stopping, mother found the regiment at Lexington 
and her boy able to sit up a little. Her joy was too 
deep for words. After a week's sojourn dispensing 
home influences, comfort, and cheer, and visiting 
with friends in the regiment, she started for anxious 
husband, family, and friends, and at parting gave 
me a silver quarter from home, as a keepsake (coin 
being then almost entirely unseen). Afterwards a 
silver smith among our boys, made me a combined 
brigade, division and corps badge of it, being an 
acorn inclosed in a triangle and star. I have kept, 
worn, and have it yet. 

To me it will ever be a vivid reminder of woman's 
heroic patriotism, undaunted courage, and self sac- 
rifice in the great struggle for national existence. 



of Overlook 127 



GOOD OLD-FASHIONED WINTERS. 

Some people have a curious way 
Of telling what they have to say 
About some winters they have known, 
Way back to where their thoughts have flown, 
To "Good old-fashioned winters." 

Of snow from early fall till May 
With feed all gone, and no more hay, 
And stock so thin that e'en a breeze 
Would blow them in the tops of trees, 
In "Good old-fashioned winters." 

Of how they then on twigs did thrive, 
Thus keeping there themselves alive, 
And how in spring men came from town 
Chopping the trees to get them down, 
After "those good old winters." 

Of how the ice in solid cakes 
Froze fast to bottoms of the lakes; 
And when spring rains began to fall 
It lifted bottoms, sides and all, — 

Those "Good old-fashioned winters." 

And how it seemed, in cow-hide boots 
Standing on snow banks picking fruits ; 
No more such times we see as then 
I wish they would come back again — 

Those "Good old-fashioned winters." 



128 By Snook 

But here it is, now come at last 
With colder cold, than in the past, 
Blizzards with fiercer tempest tost 
And snow drifts filled with keener frost, 
This "bad old-fashioned winter." 

We sigh no more for rigorous cold 
With snow piled high, and tempest bold, 
If this is it, give us no more 
The likes of Ninteen-three and four — 
This "horrid, bad old winter." 



THE LITTLE WORD WE SAY. 

Happiness is not far coming 
And the home is bright and gay, 

When its members all are careful 
Of the little words they say. 

Fill the mind with gentle thinking, 
For that kind is surely best, 

Then expression will be natural, 
Words are only thoughts expressed. 

Home should be a sacred haven, 
Spare no pains or thought, or care, 

Make it beautiful with kindness 
And 'twill bless us everywhere. 

Home is worth our best endeavor, 
Home should be the dearest place, 

Guarded, loved, and cherished ever, 
Greeted with a smiling face. 



of O v erlo o k 129 



MICHIGAN AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE. 

SEMI-CENTENNIAL. 

The first pursuit of man was agricultural ; 

And from that day to this, that art 
Has furnished growing minds, of breadth and depth. 

Who sway the nation's very heart. 

But rural education sighed for loftier heights, 
With all the "whys and wherefores" taught ; 

Brave, noble legislators lent a helping hand, 
And order was from chaos brought. 

Thus, fifty years the product of their work has 
grown, 

With added thought and influence great; 
And proudly on this half-centennial 

We gather here to celebrate. 

And placed on first of institutions of it's kind, 
In memory of our good and learned, 

Who've scattered blessings o'er the land, 
A wreath — triumphant and well earned. 

A tribute, loyal, glad, by friends and patrons given, 
Who've shared the scientific knowledge, 

From a thousand doors that open wide 
In Michigan's Agricultural College. 



130 By Snook 



OVERLOOK. 

We cannot tell you half our glad emotions, 
As from the ''Overlook" we gaze enwrapped, 

Where up and down the valley wide extending 
We see a hundred fields and forests mapped. 

'Tis changing ever, from the spring tilL fall : 

At first with furrows straight and meadows green, 

Then waving, ripening grains of different kinds, 
With vines and orchards fruiting in the scene. 

See the fine buildings, and the happy homes 
Scattered o'er landscape of extended size ; 

Or watch the rapid trolleys as they glide, 
Sinking in vales or on the hill-tops rise. 

Or, view the mighty engines with their trains, 
Trembling the earth and air with rumbling sound ; 

How quick they come, how rapidly depart, 
Giving variety the whole year round. 

And later on behold the golden shocks, 

While distant stacks of grain like dots appear; 

See forest patches tinted by the frost, 

And wish their gorgeous beauty colors near. 

While closer by the cattle may be seen, 

With flocks of sheep, with frisky lambs at play; 

We sometimes wonder at their antics queer 
And why the cattle graze with heads one way. 




ft 

Xfl 

p 

O 

w 

o 

O 

M 

Oh 



of Overlook 13 1 



The valley village nestles close at hand, 
Its varying whistles rend the air betimes ; 

While music from its charming bells sounds forth, 
Filling the living picture with their chimes. 

Blest Rochester! 'mong charms sublime you stand, 
The emerald hills and sparkling streams compete 

With nature, in her happiest, brightest moods, 

To make your glad surroundings most complete. 

Lights of the night gleam from Detroit forth, 
Like diamonds bright they twinkle in their glow ; 

From "Overlook" you see their dancing sparkle, 
Their distance, guessing you could never know. 

The sunrise, and the sunsets, O, how grand, 

With floating cloudlets and their glittering frills; 

Or at high noon watch sunshine bright and shade 
Chasing each other o'er the sloping hills. 

If satisfied with only rock and seas, 

Then at this picture fair you need not look ; 

But if for fertile vale and verdant hills you sigh, 
Then view the scene from lovely "Overlook." 

KISS OR CAR. 

Don't stop for a kiss 
When the trolley is coming; 
Rush out of the door 
And signal the car. 
A kiss is a good thing 
A sweet thing it may be, 
But not to be left 
■ Is better by far. 



i3 2 By Snook 



THE FARMERS' CLUB. 

Oh think of the Club 

And its hub-bub-bub, 
From near and from far they are here ; 

Some young and some old, 

Some jolly, some bold, 
All happy, and isn't it queer! 

Help the ladies alight, 

And hold horses tight, 
Here is something, now don't forget these, 

Take them into the house 

As still as a mouse, 
Or we shall be left in the breeze. 

And how do you do, 

I'm glad to see you, 
And how have you been all the while? 

Hello, Uncle Jess, 

And Mary and Bess ! 
Being here we are just in the style. 

How nice now to meet, 

And old friends to greet, 
Why didn't you come the last time? 

I told Frank you would 

If only you could, 
He said, you were saving your dime ! 

Well, how 'bout the sleigh ? 

I heard you and May 
Were riding where soft moonbeams creep ! 

How happened it, Bill, 

That Ned broke the thill? 
It must be the horse was asleep ! 



of Overlook 133 

Oh, Susie, my dear! 

I knew you'd be here, 
To meet your old auntie so true; 

How's Grandma today, 

And Carrie and May? 
I wish they were here, yes I do. 

What, dinner time now! 

I was wondering how 
Ell and I could get a good place; 

Now right here it is, 

Say, isn't this biz, 
Guess we're not so slow in a race ! 

Here's a chicken and ham 

With blackberry jam, 
And jellies and cranberries too, 

Homemade bread, if you please, 

With fried cakes and cheese, 
With such things Oh ! what would you do? 

The table looks pretty, 

It seems such a pity 
To stow away things out of sight, 

But say, don't you tell, 

They'd think it a sell, 
I've not had a meal since last night! 

See now who is able 

To get to the table? 
How strange they are eating so long, 

When we're all in a hurry 

And worry and flurry, 
For a chance in the opening song! 



134 By Snook 

Hear the president's call 

With his cute little maul, 
Thinks pounding will keep it more still, 

Come, boys, don't you hear? 

Too much racket, I fear; 
Now's the time to settle your bill. 

The question today 

Is, how would it pay 
To do without clubs any more? 

Those in favor will say 

A loud no, or nay, 
And the rest will be put out of door. 

'Twas unanimous, 

Without any fuss, 
And singing then followed so sweet. 

Recitations were heard 

That all our hearts stirred, 
And we voted just where to meet. 

Then come the good-byes, 

And the whens and the whys, 
And what will you plant to make money? 

Who's got good seed oats ? 

Or best kind of shoats ? 
So we all went home, sweet as honey. 

The club has its pleasure, 

Has also its leisure : 
It fosters good will among neighbors, 

It educates rightly, 

It makes us more sprightly, 
Shows how to succeed with our labors. 



of Overlook 135 



THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 

Are there places on earth that are better or brighter 

Where coldness and dullness are less of the rule 
Where bright eyes are brighter, or light hearts are 
lighter 
Than is found in the home of our dear Sunday 
school ? 

They are learning the songs they may carry forever 
And texts that are Golden they store in their 
minds, 

Of duty to parents, to friends and companions, 
Of glory to God and good-will to mankind. 

Why not gladden their hearts with our presence and 

pennies ? 

It may lighten our burdens, to join in their song, 

We'd be welcome we know in this garden of flowers, 

Why should we be excused from the bright happy 

throng ? 

There are times in our lives, in this world with its 

sorrow, 

When midst tempests and storms we are hurriedly 

driven, 

That with joy we remember the Sunday school hour 

As the one place on earth that is nearest to Heaven. 



13 6 B y Sno ok 



THE JOLLY PIONEER. 

The following verses were read at the Pioneer banquet held in Pontiac, 
March 22, 1907. 

Oh ! the jolly pioneers 

With their friendship and their fun 

How they felled the woods in swaths like driven 

snow; 
Don't you wish that you'd been there 
Just to help them catch the bear 
Or to drive the ox 
That sometimes wouldn't go? 

And their curious logging bees 

When they piled up logs so high 

That not a man would dare to roll them higher; 

Then when drouthy times appear 

In the autumn of the year 

You'd think it fun 

To set the heaps a-fire 

How they tilled the fertile soil 

'Mongst a thousand stumps or more, 

Breaking plow points oft, and chains of every kind; 

And you'd hardly ever know 

If you're in or out the row 

With your horse or ox 

Which might as well be blind. 

Oh! the sturdy pioneers 
In their home-spun, gray or brown, 
How they built our roads through forests glen and 
glade ; 



of Overlook 137 

And by streamlets built the mills 
Close beside the rustic hills, 
Though in many things 
They volunteered their aid. 

How they built a house of logs 

For the little girls and boys, 

And for older ones, I'm surely glad to say; 

Then with benches very strong 

And desks so very long 

They with wooden pins 

Would fasten them to stay. 

We are glad of churches built 

Though of modest size and form, 

For their active work has yielded good untold; 

And may blessings ever rest 

On the ones who did their best, 

Hoping ever thus 

That people's heart to mold. 

Oh ! the good old pioneers, 

Just a few are with us still. 

And we love them for their honesty and worth ; 

For the hardships they went through 

While they toiled for me and you, 

As with energy 

They helped subdue the earth. 



i3*> By Snook 

TWENTIETH CENTURY WOMAN. 

WRITTEN BY REQUEST FOR THE "MID WINTER 
SPECIAL^ OF THE ROCHESTER WOMAN'S CLUB, 
MARCH 6TH, 1900. 

The Twentieth Century Woman should be, and 
will be, the sunshine and guide of childhood and 
youth, the companion and comfort of noon-day life, 
the solace and cheer of old age. It almost seems as 
if we could now hear her advancing footsteps. 
Hark!— 

The Twentieth Century Woman comes, 
The world in education waits, 

Awe-struck with wonder we become, 
The angels listen at the gates. 

What will man's better half then do, 

With added privilege and power, 
Use it for good, for false, or true? 

With trusting hope we wait the hour. 

Shall home, sweet home, be set aside, 

Or in the background stand apace, 
While business squabbles o'er it ride, 

Or office tries to take its place ? 

Shall the professions crowd out home, 
The dearest spot on earth to all? 

Shall ease or fashion ever dare 
To try to drive it to the wall ? 

It must not be, it cannot be, 

No backward step is ever good; 
The Twentieth Century must not see 

A mercenary womanhood. 



o f Over look 139 

Then hail! ye women of the coming years! 

Think not in business haunts to roam, 
The sweetest, happiest place on earth, 

The highest place, is — Queen of Home. 



POLITENESS. 

If "Politeness is to do and say 
The kindest thing in the kindest way," 
Why don't we in its practice grow, 
That by our actions all may know 
What is Politeness. 

The kindest thing in the kindest way, 
Whether at work, in school or play, 
'Twould take, let's see, some care and thought 
To learn the lessons that we ought 
In true politeness. 

I'm 'fraid 'twould cramp our selfishness, 
Impair or stunt our laziness, 
And, keeping these, how can we grow, 
How can we ever hope to know 
What is politeness? 

Nothing, they say, will pay so great 
With interest at so large a rate, 
As this choice plant with fruitage crowned 
And fragrant bloom the whole year round, — 
As true politeness. 



14° By Snook 



BIRTHDAY SURPRISE. 

One sunny day some years ago, 

My family kind (I call them so) 
Planned how to make a birthday time 

As happy as a running rhyme. 

They formed a plot, and laid it thus 

In secret, not consulting us, 
To have me on my birthday go 
And dig some parsnips from the row. 

And, as the day was fine and warm, 

They'd go along, 'twould do no harm ; 
So Mother and the children four 
Came gaily from the kitchen door. 

With spade in hand I led the way 
To where great parsnips grew to stay, 

And as the day was desperate hot 
I shed my coat upon the spot. 

I dug and dug, they seemed so strong, 
And wondered why they grew so long; 

I stooped and pulled with all my might, 

My working pants were stretched and tight. 

When suddenly as lightning glare 

Came stroke on stroke, you may guess where, 
From gad in hands of nimble kid 

Doing with zest what he was bid. 



of Overlo o k 14 1 

With frightened start and sudden bound 
I jumped in air from off the ground; 

With words I care not to repeat, 
I saw and felt that I was beat. 

And midst the shout and laugh that rose 
One guessed if they were friends or foes, 

For good or ill, there's nought — by half — 
That's equal to a woman's laugh. 

The boy that acted well his part 

May take this lesson to his heart, 
T'was active work and lively play 

That gained success on my birthday. 



GOOD WILL. 

Who most fills earth with joy, 
Setting the heart bells ringing, 

But doers of kind deeds, 

Causing the soul's glad singing? 

All nature gladdens when 
Our hearts exulting thrill. 

As from true friends there come 
Kind tokens of good will. 

Whence comes this gladsome gift, 
Where was its place of birth 

But from the angels' song 

"Good-will o'er all the earth?" 



H 2 B v Snook 



MY GRANDFATHER'S PIONEER CHAIN. 

I love it, I love it, that pioneer chain, 

For the charm that it wakes in my heart oft 
again ; 
For the clink of its links in my memory brings 

A music not found in the chime of new things. 

How it hung from the ring of the crooked ox yoke, 
And to fasten it there wasn't always a joke; 

For old Buck and Bright, with their energy quick, 
Sometimes were inspired to give me a kick. 

But the whoa, haw and gee, and the whip's startling 
crack 
Were pursuasive enough so they took it all back; 
And when we were ready, they waddled along 
Dragging chain as it purred in its own rustic 
song. 

Over logs and o'er roots with a jingle and j&ng, 
Over stones, and on ice, how merry it sang; 

But sometimes, when hooked round a log on a 
stump, 
Its links went in two, like a thud on the jump. 

Then to hew out a toggle was the next kind of fun, 
For blacksmiths near by there surely were none; 

But the good people now, with their surplus of brain 
Would scarcely know how to toggle a chain. 



of Overlook 143 

Oh ! that chain, that old chain, that pioneer chain, 

I have handled it often in mud and in rain, 
And thought to myself, "well, my boy, you're a 
hero," 
As it stuck to my hands when the weather was 
zero. 

Unlike some great stories of the long, long ago, 
That grow to be larger the farther they go, 

This wonderful chain as a gem of the past 
Has condensed to a size that forever will last. 

It shall hang right on here as a memory test 

For I've fastened one hook in a hole of my vest, 

And the other to time-piece modern and true, 
So its links, link together the old and the new. 

I'll wear it, I'll wear it, for the good it has done 
And perhaps you may wear it, like others, for 
fun; 

'Twas the charm of the past, 'tis the charm of today, 
My grandfather's ox-chain is with us to stay. 

HEART SUNSHINE. 

If sunshine on the hills 
Sends gladness to the rills 
And all creation joins 

In its glory, 
Then sunshine in the heart 
Should gladdest joys impart 
And a glowing, smiling face 

Would tell the story. 



144- By Snook 

QUEEN AND CRESCENT. 

NO doubt a short description of this road, from 
Cincinnati to Chattanooga, remarkable in 
many respects, will be interesting to my 
readers. 

About eight A. M. our party stepped aboard the 
trairf known as the "Cannon Ball," probably so 
called because it crosses its own track in the first 
mile, or that may be the Crescent part of it; at all 
events it makes quite an ascent in so doing, and is 
thus prepared to cross the high bridge over the Ohio 
River. The first fifty miles or so, are over rolling 
country of hill and dale, the soil being a gray clay, 
the road crossing and recrossing many times the 
old Covington and Lexington Pike, a route familiar 
to many of the Boys in Blue, long years ago. Now 
the hills gradually diminish, and the gullies dis- 
appear. Hemp is grown in great abundance. And 
we find in Central Kentucky the towns of Lexing- 
ton, Nicholasville, and Dansville, situated in a rich 
beautiful country. Are these really the same places 
through which we marched and countermarched? 
And how different this cannon ball in which we 
ride, and how much better than the cannon balls 
with which we were then familiar! Well, the road 
— what about the road? — yes, yes. But thought 
will wander back along the track of other years, and 
comparisons come unsought and unasked, and isn't 
it pleasant to find here a better, a happier, and a 
more prosperous country than of yore? Variety 
they say is the spice of life, and if that be so, then 



of Overlook 145 

the time you spend on the Q. & C. will be highly 
seasoned. 

The bridge over the Kentucky River is 285 
feet above the water, and the banks are perpen- 
dicular rocks. There at the bend comes in another 
stream. Isn't it grand? But what is the matter? 
The trainmen come through soon after noon, light- 
ing lamps. You soon find out, however, and begin 
to wonder how long a mile is under a mountain. 
Now what a high trestle this is, and while looking 
we plunge into another gigantic darkness. The 
wooded hills grow higher, the cuts are through solid 
stone, the tunnels and trestles more frequent. The\ 
say we are in Tennessee; the scenery grows bolder 
and grander. We begin to descend the slopes of a 
ravine, we follow the banks of a rushing mountain 
rivulet, till we view for miles the beauties of a clear 
rapid creek, whose bottom and sides are rock, and 
rock only. We see them running cool way up the 
hillsides. What do these hills, these mountains 
high, contain? Who can guess? 

But all at once the stream has turned into a river, 
with no banks, and with perpendicular sides of great 
huge stone, rock upon rock, as if laid by the Mas- 
ter's hand at creation. The dashing waters are 
beneath on the right, the towering mountains above 
on the left. Our eyes must have a rest, and so we 
meditate. Some say this is the twentieth tunnel, 
others say more; we've lost our count, there is no 
time for counting. Then the train bursts forth 
again into the beautiful sunshine and mountain-river 
grandeur. We said to our companion, this almost 
beats the Lehigh. 

We make a halt. Some one enquires, "Why this 
stop?" The brakeman answered, "Because this is 



146 By Snook 

the first level ground for the last eighty miles that 
the train could find to stand on." We considered it 
a joke, but thought he was more than half right. 
On we rushed, the train passing through enough 
more mountains to make twenty-seven tunnels, and 
we are glad to glide out into the narrow Wanhat- 
chie Valley, and for seventy miles contrast its beau- 
ties with the rugged grandeur of the rocky-faced 
mountain range, one thousand feet high, just at our 
right. Here we saw some live stock, but the 
absence of sheep in the landscape pictures was very 
noticeable. The Tennessee river is crossed at the 
foot of Mission Ridge, and behold we are at the 
journey's end, and our party of six snugly housed 
at the corner of Ninth and Market. 

We are full of Chattanooga, Lookout Mountain, 
Mission Ridge, and Chickamauga, of their historic 
past and their present grandeur. 



TRUTH. 

Truth is a sparkling gem, 

All added glitter mars; 
Serene it shines complete and pure 

As one of the fixed stars. 

Truth is of heavenly birth 

And rise again it must; 
No demon's power can keep it down, 

T'will spring e'en out the dust. 



of Overlook 147 



HELPFUL DAYS. 

What days have helped the most? 
In the battle of life 
With its cares and strife 
Its passing tomorrows 
And trials and sorrows, 

Are not those the best 

With a Sunday's rest? 

What days have helped us more, 
To educate the heart 
For helpful, truer part, 
Stirring the soul anew 
The better things to do, 

Than those glad days of rest 

By Sabbath title blessed? 

What days have helped the most 
To drive out selfishness 
Allowing blessedness 
The hungry mind to fill 
With tokens of good will, — 

Are they not days sublime 

Called sacred holy time? 

AVhat days have helped the most 
A citizenship to raise 
To truer purer ways, 
Made home more dear 
With brighter cheer? 
Shall we not sing their praise 
These helpful hallowed days? 



148 By Snook 



MACKINAC ISLAND. 

If in your soul there's room for beauty's charm, 
Or from it greatest grandeur echoes back, 

Hush not its longings or its lofty flights, 

Till you have seen and known old Mackinac. 
Grand Mackinac. 

Isle of the Strait, some miles from any shore, 
Standing erect, with jagged, lofty sides, 

Smiling in Nature's freshest, gladdest glow, 
Two hundred feet above the splashing tides. 
Bright Mackinac. 

See pebbly beach, its graceful form encircling, 
Without a rush or reed to mar its charm. 

Through waters clear as glass we see the bottom, 
Not rough, or wild enough to cause alarm. 
'Round Mackinac. 

Shall we together climb the zigzag hill, 

And ride on winding woodland roads awhile, 

Surprised at every turn, and glimpses catching, 
Of grandest scenery, which our souls beguile 
On Mackinac? 

See steamer palace floating o'er the lake ; 

Look, way down there is Sugar Loaf's retreat. 
They say that those who in its shadows rest, 

Will soon be truest friends or lovers sweet. 
At Mackinac, 



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of Overlook 149 

Why ! here we're coming to the lake again, 

And through Arch Rock, so high, behold its 
glitter. 
For words of wonder or for feelings grand, 
Is there in all the world a place that's fitter 
Than Mackinac? 

i 
Here stands the old French fort, two centuries old, 
And there Fort "Holmes," with only now a name ; 
Old Mission Church, and the work of Marquette, 
And fur-trading station of Astor fame. 
Historic Mackinac. 

Behold ! This island's strange bewitchings, 
With bluffs of quaintest naming on its hem, 

You cannot grasp its charm by wordings, 

This Isle of all the lakes the loveliest gem. 
Queen Mackinac. 



150 B y S n o o k 



THE OLD WATER MILL. 

The old, old mill, 

For seventy years and more 
Its rumbling sounds 

Have trembled all its frame. 
Its ponderous wheels, 

Of granite hard and strong, 
Have ground the grain 

That to its doorways came. 

The quiet waters 

In the sturdy, timbered race 
Move slowly on 

Until, with sudden thrill, 
They strike the wheel 

And, with heroic gush 
And giant power, 

Move all within the mill. 

And at the flume 

The tumbling waters fall 
As clear as glass, 

Then rush the creek along ; 
Striking huge rocks 

With dashing fury bold, 
Or, spreading out, 
They sing a milder song. 

We pause and look, 
With admiration mute, 

On all thy quaint 

Surroundings, old and queer; 



of Overlook 151 

On shining pond 

With grass-grown dam, 
Bordered so long 

With willows year by year. 

It sooths, it charms, 

To see how nature works 
Her quiet ways 

In beautifying art ; 
And to this mill 

And all that here is strange, 
I offer now 

The thoughts that thrill my heart. 



GOLD-FISH. 

For restful, quiet motion 
Outside, or in the ocean; 
There's nothing near or far 
Like gold-fish in a jar. 

In all their occupation 
They have no conversation 
That can by us be heard, — 
Not e'en a tiny word. 

When rest is necessary 
To keep me from a worry, 
And I for quiet wish, 
I glance at our gold-fish. 



1 5 2 By Snook 



THE AUT(NOT)TOMOBILE. 

There's a serious thing in our country today 

That's a libel on justice and worth, 
For in the highways where we all have some rights. 

You would think that it owned all the earth. 

As soon as it's out of the city's control 
It is recklessly whizzing through space, 

Caring not for the safety of woman or child, 
Throwing dirt on your clothes and your face ; 

Caring not for the beauty of landscape or glen 

Or of sociable comment thereon, 
But only to make of the zephyr a storm 

In its mad rush to get there and gone. 

Like a demon let loose from the regions below 
You can dodge it perhaps if you may, 

But if you're upset and your heads taken off 
They are gone and there's nothing to pay. 

Some think it fine sport while thus tearing along 

To shoot at the dog or the chickens, 
With their number concealed by a big cloud of dust, 

They think they can act like the dickens. 

A civilian once said that a few good buck-shot 
Through the bottom of one whirling wheel, 

Might make a hog stop in his frantic career 
And lower his bristles and squeal. 



of Overlook 153 

But that is not all, now they want you to build 

An expensive macadamized track, 
So's to push you so far with your horse and your 
debt 

That you never will live to get back. 

How gladly I'd find some good points to inspire 
But my thoughts on such drivings congeal ; 

No one with an impulse of beauty or right 
Could endure the aut(not)tomobile. 



VARIETY. 

If all were sunshine, 

There would be no clouds to roll away; 
If all were brightness, 

Where, then, the dawning of a happy day? 

If clouds came not with tears 

To soften up the sterile soil, 
No harvest time would come 

As gladsome recompense for care and toil. 

If all were glittering light, 

Where then would be the softer-tinted ray? 
Or rest for weary eyes, 

Or stopping time, or sweet good-night to say? 

Dull sameness lacks in spice; 

From good to better is propriety, 
The plan is beautiful — 

For days and thoughts to have variety. 



154 By Snook 



THREE COMPANIONS. 

If something new you'd like to hear, 
A story true and strange I'll tell 

Of curious old time friends of mine 
Who somehow in my pathway fell. 

As on my way alone I went 

From social of peculiar make, 
Where maidens fair and matrons gay 

Sold boxes filled with pie and cake, 

When auctioneer in happy mood 
Told that a lady's name was there 

And, if you'd pay the highest price, 
You might with her the goodies share. 

Excitement reigned, the bids went up, 
They squabbled in financial strife; 

And one more lucky than the rest 

Soon found that he had drawn his wife. 

The merry laugh rang through the hall, 
The danties vanished out of sight, 

Till all were filled with cake and fun 
And lingered long to say good night. 

Homeward at last alone *I strode, 

I'd passed the mill and climbed the hill, 

The evening stars shone clear and bright, 
The air was crispy, cold and still. 



of Overlook 155 



My livelier step and happy thoughts 
Seemed buoyant in the frosty air; 

Then suddenly these friends appeared, 
I cannot tell just how or where. 

On either side so close they came, 
Not even asking if they might; 

One on my left cheek placed a kiss 
The other shyly touched my right. 

We journeyed on both glad and gay, 
Talked of the evening landscape's glow, 

Of former conversations had, 

Of things we'd seen and done, you know. 

They are indeed a paradox, 

I hardly know what they can mean; 
For though we have so often met 

They never have each other seen. 

When one is here, the other's there, 
They're never the same side of me; 

They are my friends for all of that, 
Though different colored they may be. 

So now I'll give you here their names, — 
Or have you guessed it all too soon 

About these curious, comic friends — 
Myself, my shadow, and the moon. 



156 By Snook 



THE SWORD AND PEN. 

No greater powers for good or ill 
Have risen yet to govern men 

Than these two representatives, 

The sharpened sword and pointed pen. 

At first the sword was paramount, 
Hastening to direst deeds commence, 

Or, rose as only then it could, 
Heroically in self-defense. 

Thus ages, for the right or wrong, 
It's glittering blade — I hate to say — 

O'er rolling seas, or fertile plain 

Has slaughtered millions by the way. 

But now the pen with power untold, 
With promptings of a better kind, 

While sharper than a two-edged sword 
Is ruling men by ruling mind ; 

Not driving them as brutes are driven, 
But thrilling soul with impulse great, 

Thus leading with a gentle sway 
All to a high or low estate. 

Their power is great, results are large ; 

I've used them both to influence men, 
And now in thinking it all over, 

I give my verdict to the pen. 



of Overlook 157 

Brothers ! with destinies to make, 

Who must take part in life's great fight, 

Lay down the tarnished sword of wrong, 
Take up a mighty pen for right. 

CHERRY TREE AND HATCHET. 

By some George was condemned 
For cutting down a fine young cherry tree 
And, though most manfully he owned it up, 

No virtue do they see. 

Who said the tree was young 
And fair with natural growth and beauty true? 
This hasty, random guessing on our part 

Is not the thing to do. 

More likely it was old, 
Loaded perhaps with its last fruitage crop, 
So, wise and business-like, he cut it down 

With hatchet, chop by chop. 

The handy fruit then picked, 
Some rounded bushels more or less, I ween, 
Then from its trunk, we know, made hatchets good. 

For many we have seen. 

This energy, prophetic, 
And statesmanship, with honest purpose meant, 
Made George, who cut his father's cherry tree, 

Our first great president. 



i5 8 By Snook 



THE RURAL TROLLEY. 

How jolly the trolley, as it comes through the coun- 
try, 

Or as viewed in the village or seen in the town. 
As it runs by the rills or skips over the hills, 

And scans pretty pictures in green and in brown. 

How it flies o'er the trestle or slips through the glen, 
And laughs at the landscape from hills that are 
higher ; 
How glibly it glides and how smoothly it slides, 
On a track staunch and strong, in a way we 
admire. 

The sights that we see, — -oh, the homes in the coun- 
try, 
The large fields of fruitage and crops that are 
clean, 
And forests of foliage, in loveliest colors, 

Made fair by the frost and the sun's golden sheen ! 

Industrious farmers are tilling the fields, 

Large horses in harness, sleek sheep in the clover, 

Small pigs and large porkers, fine cows in the pas- 
ture, 
And many things more as we glance the way over. 



of Overlook 159 



Or to look at the lake with its boats and its boatlets, 

With its sails and its skiffs among islands of 

green ; 

With banks of rare beanty for many miles 'round it ; 

Is there picture more lovely that your eyes have 

seen? 

And the "tin" and the time, not much of it spent ; 

Start and stop when you like, in darkness and 
light. 
Or if left in the lurch, you can try it again, 

Or if freighting you want, it is rapid and "right." 

Then the rapture of riding, and pleasure of leisure, 
And the lights in the night, how they glitter and 
glow ! 
You are warm in the winter, not smothered in 
summer, 
Nor wet with the dampness of rain or of snow. 

To ride on this route, in a palace that's pleasing, 
With Nellie and Burton, or Clarence and Mollie. 

'Mid grandeur that's grand, and scenes that are 
scenic, 
Oh, isn't it jolly, a trip on the trolley? 



i6o By Snook 



THE HUDSON. 

'Twas in loveliest May that we left the great city, 
To sail on the Hudson at dawn of the day. 

We'd started for home and the scenes of our child- 
hood ; 
The city's new charms were fast fading away. 

We rode by the side of this river in autumn, 

When its banks were more sombre, its visage less 
»» fair ; 

But now it threw o'er me a rapture so charming, 
I thought from the boat to alight in the air. 

So glad was my heart, as it kept rising higher, 
That its joy, as compared with its average pitch, 

Was as this great river compared to a streamlet, 
And its beauties compared to the banks of a ditch. 

Such beauty of landscape, great hills of bold 
grandeur, 
Such orchards of blossoms, 'mongst carpets of 
green ; 
Fine palaces grand, with the tall trees around them. 
And verdure resplendent my eyes had ne'er seen. 

The sky overhead, with its blue dome of azure, 
The water beneath, with its glittering sheen, 

My soul broke its cage, flew away in its lightness, 
To the grandeur of beauty its glad eye had seen. 



of Overlook 161 

It kissed the sweet blossoms, it smelled of the flow- 
ers ; 
Rolled and skipped on the lawns, and could scarce 
say adieu, , 

Soared aloft in the soft breeze, came down on the 
roses, 
Laughed out from the branches a glad peek-a-boo. 

Come back, did you say, to its home in my bosom? 

Yes, yes, it came back, but I caged it no more. 
It has always returned to its perch in the evening, 

But never again did I fasten the door. 

Years have come and have gone, yet we journey 
together. 

No friends ever truer than my soul and I. 
The heights of his flights almost startles my senses : 

But seldom I ask him for a reason why. 

Sometimes when I lovingly pet his soft plumage, 
And speak of his flights, of his pranks, and his 
play, 
He will twinkle his eye, and coyly make answer, 
"Not so grand as we had on the Hudson that day." 



162 By Snook 



FARM HOME. 

On the farm is a good place to live, 
And farming will pay, if well done; 

Has profits, true pleasure, and leisure, 
Hard work, much care, and some fun. 

There's continual changing of business, 
That causes the young folks to think, 

And freshens the minds that are older 
Like the pure, sparkling water we drink. 

The air is so pure and inspiring — 

Not filled with smoke, cursing and noise — 

A place for broad thought and reflection, 
The best place to bring up the boys. 

What pleasure to see the crops growing, 
The trees with their blossoms and fruit; 

To taste peaches and cherries and apples 
And find which our palate will suit. 

To smell the sweet bloom of the clover, 
See grain fields that wave in the breeze, 

And go for the cow towards evening, 
Through woods with its sheltering leaves. 

And a table supplied with fresh eggs, 
With good butter, pure milk and sweet cream. 
With vegetables new from the garden 
And berries that make your eyes beam. 



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THE PROSPECTIVE PIE 



of Overlook 163 



You can stand like a man among men — 
Do not need to crouch, quibble or fawn — 

If they don't like your style let them go, 
They don't have to remain on your lawn. 

There's a chance to have friends and be friendly, 

To the grange or the club you may go, 
Or if lazy a few days in August 
Your crops will continue to grow. 

O the country with all its attractions, 
What business can more freedom give ? 

'Twould seem it were easy decided : 
On the farm is the best place to live. 



MAKE A CONTRAST. 

Dreary, dreary, dreary 

Seems the barren landscape now, 
With fields of winter gray 

And trees with leafless bough. 

I will not longer gaze 

Through the gloomy window pane, 
But turn myself about 

From wind, and mud, and rain, 

And see a contrast glad 

From somber scenes that weary. 
By making self and home 

More cheery, cheery, cheery. 



164 By Snook 



THE DEAR OLD FOLKS. 

The dear old folks of our early home 

How often they visit the heart; 
In our thoughts they come and almost speak 

And seem of our lives a part. 

How vividly fresh is their coming 

Mongst pleasures and cares as we roam, 

Till we sigh for the councils and smiles 
Of the dear old folks of our home. ' 

They trained to walk our chubby little feet, 
Our lisping tongue to speak the thought, 

And their tired patience was sublime 
Before we learned the lessons taught. 

We little knew of father's toiling 
Or Mother's watchful tender care ; 

In keeping restless home-ones safely 

Our parents dear, then had their share. 

The dear old folks of the long ago 

It seems quite long as we glance back, 

And happiness now is not complete, 
Their friendship true is what we lack. 

Why didn't we better improve their stay, 
Their words and their knowledge record? 

'Twould have helped us many times we know 
And been these years a great reward. 



of Overlook 165 

Yet an impress deep I'm sure they left 
In deed and act and loving word; 

For still in recollection sweet 

Their happy voice is often heard. 

OLD GLORY. 

Proudly Old Glory led the way 
For boys by thousands in the fray; 
When home and country were assailed 
That starry banner never failed. 

One country and one flag, 

All rivals are a rag; 
The stars and stripes o'er land and sea 
Is flag enough for you and me. 

For just one government it stands 
One country in our various lands 
Thy floating stripes, and stars that shine 
Are for this dear loved land of mine, 

One country and one flag, 

All rivals are a rag; 
The stars and stripes o'er land and sea 
Is flag enough for you and me. 

Grand emblem pledged to home and right, 
Through clouds or sunshine, dark or light, 
Welcomed you are this whole land o'er, 
Old Glory now and ever more, 

One country and one flag, 

All rivals are a rag; 
The stars and stripes o'er land and sea 
Is flag enough for you and me. 



166 By Snook 



THE ONE HUNDREDTH. 

Of poems many that have strayed 
Through fancy's domain going, 

This is the hundredth that I've caught 
By line and lasso throwing. 

So shy and coy these nimble elves 

My pen and grasp eluding, 
That if I come within their beat 

They think I am intruding. 

But this will make a ten times ten 
With titles clear and chiming, 

Secured at last and made quite fast 
With rhyming and with timing. 

I've half a mind to look them o'er 
This ninety and nine subdued, 

And put this one among the rest 
For it's of a rambling mood. 

You'll find some short and others long 
Some crisp, but we hope not dry, 

With beautiful trout in waters clear 
Near happiest birds that fly. 

Some mild-eyed kine with restful mjen, 
Some with a frisky bearing, 

Others perhaps a flighty kind 
In azure taking airing. 



of Overlook 167 



But hold ! I see another prize 

Is now my fancy luring, 
Give me the rein and lasso quick, 

I'll bring him to a mooring. 

Now here's the key, just take your time, 
Look through the list at leisure ; 

For some will pass, the very ones 
That others scan with pleasure. 



TWILIGHT BELLS. 

O ! hear the ringing chimes from church bells rung ! 

Their pleasant tones so old are new again, 
And in the twilight of this happy day 

We share their welcome glad refrain. 

How many friends their mellow tones discern 
As gently floating o'er the valley wide, 

Their echoing music comes again to us, 
E'en softer from the other side. 

I wonder if in all there is a love 

For grandest harmony or sweetest chime, 
If in the hidden key-board of their souls 

There is a happy chord — sublime. 

If some have never known these feelings grand, 

They've lost 'tis true a goodly part, 
And should at once in earnestness begin 

To cultivate their ear and heart. 



168 By Snook 



WHEN ELL AND I WERE YOUNG FOLKS. 

Well, as you've asked about tho^e times 

When "clearings" were by large woods hid, 

I'll give you now in these few lines 
A glimpse of what they had and did, 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

The girls dressed then in calico, 

Had eyes like the sparkling stars, 
With smiles that met the morning glow, 

As the cows went through the bars. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

The boys wore boots that lacked the style, 
Their coats were rough, their hearts were strong. 
They liked with the girls to chat a while, 
An hour or so was not too long. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

The people then had "husking bees/' 

When the neighbors came together, 
And "logging bees" to burn up trees, 

In the driest kind of weather. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

Oh, yes, those husking bees were jolly; 

With smuggled red-corn-ears so -many, 
What a great surprise it was to Molly, 

That she and Jo could not find any. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 



of Overlook 169 

In gay big loads they rode together, 

Or walked by the way in groups. 
We talked of something besides the weather, 

While dodging Cupid's darts and loops. 
When Ell and I were young folks. 

And then those promised horseback rides 

If we'd but rise before the sun, 
With fine companions by our sides, 

It was the greatest kind of fun. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

Then spelling schools were all the rage, 

Sometimes there'd be a tussle; 
But one bright girl oft took the cake, 

While the rest went home in a hustle. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

In lumber wagon we went to church ; 

Then taking neighbors was the rule, 
We heard the good man from his perch, 

And saw each other in Sunday School. 

When Ell and I were young folks. 

Then came rebellion, dark and drear, 
Boys went to war, the girls were sad. 

Their hearts were filled with, gloom and fear. 
But some returned and the girls were glad. 
When Ell and I were young folks. 



i7° By Snook 

And teaching school and "boardin' round." 
What fun it "wasn't " I hear you say. 

Well, many ideas I'm sure we found, 
And learned the news from day to day. 
When Ell and I were young folks. 

But there came a time one happy day, 
No matter when, it's all the same, 

That two young hearts launched on the bay, 
And one 'twas found had changed her name. 
When Ell and I left the young folks. 

GOLDEN TRIOS. 

To have a lovely landscape, 
Stand out in freshness new, 

Three things at least are needed, 
The sunshine, rain and dew. 

To have acquaintance brighten, 
Like a sunbeam from above, 
It must contain this trio, 

Of friendship, truth and love. 

And to do the best in working, 

Enjoying most our part, 
We must use the happy trio, 

Of head and hand and heart. 

Make mottoes of these trios, 

Watch the outcomes of their doing. 

They will help you in all work 
That's worth pursuing. 



of Overlook 171 



BETWEEN TWO YEARS. 

Our lifeboat on the stream of time 
Is passing by a year-tower high ; 
We know it by its ringing chime, 

Its brilliant search-lights in the sky. 

The record says another year 

Is photographed on memory's walls, 
With all its charming landscapes dear, 
Its mountains, dells, and water-falls. 

'Tis true we've toiled to guide our craft, 
Sometimes in currents swift and strong, 

At other times large pleasures quaffed 
With loved ones as we sailed along. 

'Mongst islands, shoals, and rocky shore, 
The Guide Book helped us day by day; 

But for this chart, scanned o'er and o'er, 
We might have lost our homeward way. 

Strange feelings these, — our hearts they fill, 
The half of them no one can tell, — 

But surely whether good or ill 

We turn and bid the year farewell, 

And hope and trust in coming time 
Some skies may be so soft and clear, 

Landscapes may blossom into rhyme 
Along the way, this glad New Year. 



172 By Snook 



WORLD'S FAIR AT CHICAGO. 

THE great World's Fair at Chicago, of '93, 
was peculiar in that it was situated by a large 
body of water, thus giving the weary sight 
seers an opportunity to look away, and to stroll on 
a lovely beach, or bathe in cooling waters their 
strained optic nerves, or aching variety, — crammed 
foreheads. The state buildings were restful refuges 
for those who knew when they had enough of sight- 
seeing. To have attended that "record-breaker" and 
not to have been jammed into a twenty-four-sided 
octagon, or almost gone, would be confessing a 
place among the minority. The great beautiful 
buildings, filled with the work of all peoples, and 
the products of all climes, were numerous and 
attractive. Vast complicated moving machinery of 
wonderful variety was easily producing automatic 
movements of beauty and utility, thus accurately 
controlling strength and motion in almost super- 
human results. The greatest and grandest sight 
and performance, was the "Parade of All Nations." 
It struck us — my wife and self — or would if we had 
not gotten out of the way, as the greatest thing we 
ever saw, unless it was a "June sun-rise." Talk 
about a stage performance, here was one miles in 
length. Talk about dress, here it was from nothing 
to everything. We really pitied the Esquimos try- 
ing to shield themselves from the terribly hot sun 
with bearskin clothes and great grizzly overcoats. 



of Overlook 173 



The Arabs with their fiery steeds and long sharp 
spears and lances, were really dangerous for the 
small boys by hundreds, who were only tall enough 
to see the great parade by climbing trees and poles 
along the way. The Chinese Sacred Dragon, some 
two hundred feet in length or more, and perhaps 
four feet in width, with Chinamen walking in and 
under it, with only their feet showing, constantly 
twisting itself with snakelike movements, and occa- 
sionally darting its awful head and mouth at the 
shrinking crowd, will be remembered by a hundred 
thousand people. But that greatest parade was not 
cat-like, for it came not back to repeat itself; much 
to the sorrow of all, except the participants. The 
next greatest attraction, especially toward evening, 
seemed to be the immense stairway leading to the 
elevated railroad. Thousands of repentant people 
were not permitted to turn back, stop, or even stoop 
down. A lady of our acquaintance accidentally 
dropped a valuable handbag containing money and 
jewels ; vainly she tried to stop for its rescue. She 
could move the hearts of those within reach of her 
voice, but like John Brown, their souls and bodies 
went marching on. From her boarding place, ten 
miles from the grounds, she advertised in the dailies. 
Three days later we had the pleasure of seeing her 
joy at receiving from the hands of the noblest work 
of God, "An honest man," her precious treasures. 

As we launched out on our gay moon-light trip 
across the peaceful glittering lake, there came a 
tinge of sadness mixed with happy homebound glad- 



174 By Snook 



ness, as we looked back on the beauties and glitter 
of the great "White City" only for a few short 
months to attract the world's millions, and then to 
become a heap of desolate ruins. Why were its 
foundations laid on shifting sands? Its corner 
stones mere pretenses, its imitated beauty mainly 
paint and stucco ? Henceforth only in memory or 
in pen pictures, shall the story of your beauty, youi 
instructive, entertaining inspirations exist. 



THE WOODLAND. 

How I love the woodland, 
With its shady trees, 

And its tiny leaflets 

Quivering in the breeze. 

How it gives refreshing 
As we in it stroll, 

With its quiet gladness 
Filling up the soul. 

How it whispers softly 
To the heart alone, 

Of a peace unbounded 
From a Father's throne. 

Come ye to the forest, 
Test its sacred charm, 

To the quiet woodland 
Of the busy farm. 




< 



o 
ft 



of Overlook 175 

THE ROCKING SWING CHAIR. 

The rocking-swing-chair, what a comfort it is 
As it stands on the lawn in the shade of the trees. 
And so gracefully moves 
In the soft, balmy breeze. 
Chorus — 

O! isn't it lovely, isn't it fine, 
Under the butternut, under the pine, 
In the rocking-swing-chair 
With those glad friends of mine ! 

With seatings for four in a nice social way, 
How we chatter and laugh, how we rock and we 
swing, 

You'd know we are happy 
By the songs that we sing. 
Chorus — 

O ! isn't it lovely, isn't it fine, 
Under the butternut, under the pine, 
In the rocking-swing-chair 
With those true friends of mine ! 

And also the children with mother and me. 
When mild evening charms, and the hot sun is gone, 
How we rest, talk and sing 
On our own pleasant lawn. 
Chorus — 

O! isn't it lovely, isn't it fine, 
Under the butternut, under the pine, 
In the rocking-swing-chair 
With those dear ones of mine! 



176 By Snook 



THE VISION OF THE VALLEY. 

Written in. March before Rochester's Trolley Line had secured a 
charter from the state, and before the great Sugar Factory had arisen to 
bless and sweeten humanity. Part II. — Two years later, as their bene- 
fits are being enjoyed. 

You have heard of Hiawatha, 

Who, in years long,long ago, 

Roamed the forests of the country; 

Toiled and labored hard to know 

"How the tribes of men might prosper" — 

How the world might better grow. 

Well, some pages of the story slipped away — 

From the fingers of the printer slipped away — 

And were carried through the forest 

By the south winds, by the north winds, 

By the east winds and the west winds. 

Striking oft upon the leaflets, 

And upon the flowers striking — 

On the flowers of the forest, 

There I found the story printed, 

Printed on the blooming flowers, 

On the charming dainty leaflets. 

If you'd like to hear the story, 

Printed thus — upon the leaflets, 

On the flowers of the forest. 

I will answer. I will tell you 

Of their purport, of their meaning 

And the history of a vision 

Shown to ancient Hiawatha — 

To the good, great Hiawatha — 

In the long, long, long ago, 



of Overlook 177 



As he sauntered through the forests — 
Sad and weary through the forests — 
Thinking hard and trying to know 
"How the tribes of men might prosper," 
How the world might better grow. 
Naught he thought of birds or singing. 
Naught of squirrels with frisky chatter, 
For his heart was sad and heavy 
Thinking of his savage brothers 
Roaming helpless through the forests, 
Fighting, plundering each other. 
Suddenly he saw before him, 
In its spring-clad garments bright, 
The fair Clinton Valley's beauty, 
And its grand old hills of might. 
Long he gazed, in awe and wonder, 
At the splendour of the landscape — 
At the beauty of the landscape. 
Oft he'd seen this spot in childhood, 
Oft had roamed its creeks and rivers, 
Oft had caught from out their waters 
Fish, as large as story fishes, 
From their clear and shining waters. 
Oft in youth and oft in manhood, 
From its charming nooks of ambush. 
Had he stopped the wild deer roaming; 
And the turkeys, shy and wary, 
Carried homeward to his wigwam — 
For the inmates of his wigwam. 
All these thoughts, like lightning flashes, 
Crossed the mind of Hiawatha 
As he stood upon the hill top 
Gazing, wondering at the transport — 
Wondering at the changed condition 



178 By Snook 



That had come before his vision. 
Was it true or was he dreaming, 
Was it true he saw a vision? 
Forests changed to wigwams grand; 
Flying coaches, rushing onward, 
Puffing, screeching through the land. 
Other coaches, without flurry, 
Without work and without worry 
Skipping up hill, skipping down hill, 
Racing, chasing through the country, 
Knowing naught of weight or weary, 
Caring not for hill or valley, 
With the lightning of their bosom 
Sparkling from their feet and topnot. 
Fields of grain, as yet unheard of 
Saw he waving through the valley, 
Saw the fields of fruit trees standing, 
Ripening there before his vision. 
Larger fruit than he had known of, 
Finer fruit than he had dreamed of, 
Ripened there before his vision. 
They were large, and they were larger, 
Ten times larger than the wild plum. 
Something else was far more numerous; 
Something else was still more plenty, 
Growing close in rows together; 
In straight, narrow rows were growing, 
Like the lines of fish nets seemed they 
Stretched across the plain and hill side. 
What could be this strange, new trophy? 
Why so straight the rows, and narrow ? 
Why so many people 'mong them ? 
Why so busy were the people ? 
Why so crazy were the people ? 



of Overlook 179 

Like, the bees in search of honey — 

Searching hollow trees for honey. 

Thus he mused, and thus he pondered 

In perplexity and wonder, 

Till at length he sighed and said it: 

"This beets me! I'm surely beeten; 

All beet out trying to know 

How and why these strange plants grow." 

Thus was named the great transformer, 

Little though it be, but sweet, 

Seen in Hiawatha's vision 

Named by him, the Sugar Beet. 

Back he went into the forest, 

Fearing, wondering, and exulting 

Went he homeward through the forest, 

Filled with glory by the vision — 

By this overwhelming vision. 

For his mind was full of new thoughts, 

Thoughts of what he saw portrayed 

In the vision of the valley. 

And his voice anon would break out; 

Through the echoing forests ring out; 

Through the arches of the forest, 

Through the stillness of the forest. 

Thus in accents loud, but plaintive : 

"This beets me, I'm surely beeten, 

All beet out with trying to know 

How and why these strange plants grow." 

And the dwellers of the forests, 

Happy dwellers of the woodland, 

From their nests among the branches, 

From their perches in the large trees, 

Smiled as Hiawatha passed them; 

Sang and chattered as he passed them. 



1 80 B y S n o k 



Though his friends, were fast to hear him 

Tell the vision of the valley — 

Of the beautious, wonderous valley; 

Of its hillsides, grand and glorious. 

Gorgeous with its strange production; 

They would not believe the vision, 

They could not believe his story. 

But they shook their heads while saying: 

"We believe not what we see not. 

You are dreaming, Hiawatha, 

Though we love you, though we trust you, 

We believe not what we see not." 

Thus he failed to be convincing 

To his brothers of the forest, 

To the red men of the prairies ; 

And they, too, could not persuade him 

He had only dreamed a vision, 

Had not really seen a vision. 

So he took his friend, the warrior, 

Pontiac, the warrior, with him 

To the vision place of beauty, 

To the spot of wondrous vision ; 

And they climbed a tree together, 

Climbed a giant oak and sturdy, 

On the south hill of the valley, 

On the summit of the hilltop. 

Indian fashion climbed an oak tree 

That they might converse in quiet, 

That they might the better see. 

"This is grand, indeed," said Pontiac, 

"Grander, sure, I've never known; 

But where, good brother, is the vision, 

Has it vanished now or flown?" 



of Overlook 181 



And our Hiawatha answered, 

With a pitying look of wonder, 

With his face aglow with radiance : 

"See you not, my friend, the wigwams, 

Crowded closely in the valley, 

Standing thickly in the valley? 

With one on a little farther, 

Ten times larger than the largest? 

See you not the fields of fruitage. 

See you not the fields of straight rows, 

Pointing ever to the wigwam 

Ten times larger than the largest?" 

And the warrior in the oak tree, 

Gently swinging in the oak tree, 

Shook his head and sadly answered 

"We believe not what we see not. 

Tho' we love you, Hiawatha, 

Tho' we know you're good and true, 

You are dreaming, you are dreaming, 

Of the future of this spot; 

As for us you know our history — 

We believe not what we see not. 

What we see not we believe not." 

Sad was Hiawatha's visage 

As they clambered down the oak tree, 

As o'er hills and rills they wandered, 

For he wished his brother, also, 

Might the glorious vision share. 

Selfishness was not his motto, 

Goodness filled him everywhere. 

And the squirrels and the chipmunks 

And the robins and the blue jays, 

Sighed to see their friend look sorry, 



1 82 B y S n o o k 



Sighed, and felt that they were sorry. 
Once again the following summer, 
After all the snows of winter, 
After all the banking snow drifts 
Had departed from the hillside, 
Tried our noble Hiawatha 
To instruct his wayward brothers 
And encourage them in growing, 
Growing better, growing kinder, 
Growing purer, growing nobler, 
That they be the happier for it, 
That the world may thus grow better, 
And if possible to show them 
How the spirit speaks in visions. 
How the great, good spirit o'er us 
Sometimes, through the rifting future, 
Lets the sunlight of his knowledge, 
Lets the sunlight of his favor 
Shine upon those nearest to him, 
By their faith and works the nearest, 
Photographing on their mind's eye 
Things that none have never thought of, 
Things that they had never dreamed of. 
So his messengers departed, 
Feathered messengers of beauty, 
Flying far o'er hill and forest, 
Through the thick and tangled forest 
To the hamlets of the red men, 
To the wigwams on the hillsides, 
Asking all to come together 
By the streamlets of the river. 
Near the beauteous Clinton River, 
And they gladly heard the message, 



of Overlook 18; 



Heard the welcome invitation 
From the good man of the forest, 
From the Prophet of the woodlands, 
And a flag of truce was hoisted. 
In among all tribes and nations 
From the big lake on the east side. 
To the big lake on the west side, 
For they agreed that for one summer, 
All should be at peace together, 
All should try to help each other. 
Thus they started on their journey, 
Happy in their new endeavor. 
Happy in the sight of new things 
That they saw along their journey, 
And the freedom of not watching 
Each the other, closely watching. 
But the war paint on their faces 
Still remained upon their faces, 
Just to show on provocation 
Of the hatchet's resurrection. 
And some poisoned arrows had they, 
Stowed away within their war belts. 
Not to use in killing wild game, 
Not to use in need supplying. 
Thus at last they reached the camping, 
By the pleasant pebbly rivulet, 
Just to northward of the Clinton. 
There for miles along the streamlet 
Camped the natives of the forest. 
Camped the red men of the forest. 
None had ever seen such camping. 
None had ever known such camping. 
Here the Prophet passed among them 



184 By Snook 

In his goodness and his kindness, 

Giving now a word of council, 

Giving now a word of warning. 

Heaven seemed to grow the nearer, 

And right-doing seemed the dearer. 

And he told them, plainly told them 

That if happy they'd remain, 

They must wash the war paint from them 

Keep their hands and faces clean. 

They must cast from out their war belts 

All the arrows tipped with poison, 

All the arrows tipped with envy; 

All the arrows full of murder. 

Then they rushed into the forest, 

Flung the deadly missiles from them, 

Far into the brush they flung them, 

'Mongst the bushes and the oak leaves, 

So that none might ever find them, 

So that none might ever use them. 

And in plowing and in dragging, 

Even to this present day, 

We do find them where they lay. 

Then into the creek they tumbled, 

Swollen high by the June freshet, 

Washed the war paint from their elbows 

Washed the war paint from their faces 

'Till the creek was red with war paint, 

Colored through and through with war paint 

And they called it then the paint creek, 

And we call it yet, Paint Creek. 

Now they all had heard the story, 

Of the vision and its glory, 

And they thought they wished to see it, 



of Overlook 185 

Anyway to try to see it. 
So a time was set for viewing 
In the early moon of summer, 
In the time of the wild roses. 

PART II. 
But they never saw the vision, 
For their hearts were dark and doubting. 
They were like the old tradition, 
They "believed not what they saw not," 
And 'twas only half a trying, 
Did not really try to see it. 

For their minds they'd stored with wild thoughts; 
Stored them full of foolish vile thoughts, 
And they missed the vision's glory, 
Told in Hiawatha's story, 
For they were not worthy of it. 
But in after years — much later, 
There were those who saw the vision, 
And were stirred to active doing. 
Trying hard with hearts undaunted, 
And with works that showed believing, 
Thus to make the vision real. 
And the great, good Spirit o'er them, 
Gave them wisdom for the struggle ; 
Helped the workers make it real. 
And along old Clinton's hillsides. 
And in Rochester today, 
We can see its full completion, 
And the glory of its presence, 
In the gliding of the trolley, 
And the sparkle of its topnot; 
In the shape of that large wigwam, 
Ten times larger than the largest. 



186 By Snook 



And the straight rows like the fish nets, 
Stretched across the fields and valleys, 
Of that strange, that new production, 
Sweetest of all things most sweet, 
Seen in Hiawatha's vision, 
Named by him the "Sugar Beet." 



IN BLOSSOM TIME. 

How sweet the air in blossom time, 

How beautiful the trees; 
Fragrance is gladdening everywhere 

While borne upon the breeze. 

O blossom time! glad blossom time! 

We share with birds thy greeting; 
Our winter-frozen, stupid minds 

Break forth at such a greeting. 

There is the early apricot, 
The first its blossoms giving, 

Followed by plum and pear and peach, 
That help make life worth living. 

This giant apple tree so fine 
Is one bouquet of sweetness, 

Larger a hundred times and more 
Than handfuls held with neatness. 

I'm filled with wonder, hope and joy, 
My every sense breaks forth in rhyme, 

How can I keep from singing 

In spring's glad blossoming time? 



of Overlook 187 



WHISTLES. 

DEDICATED TO MY FIVE BOYS. 

Of all the sounds that float in air, 

And meet us often, everywhere, 

None, save the scream of cannon's missile, 

Excites alarm as steam train's whistle. 

The mammoth boat has deeper blows, 
As o'er the splashing tide it goes ; 
Perhaps, for shriek that terrifies, 
The fire alarm would take the prize. 

There are the factories and mills, 
That wake folks up and give them chills ; 
Those flying 'lectrics, even they 
Are blowing tooters night and day. 

December blasts and March winds, too, 
Seem bound to show what they can do 
To frighten with their frozen whistle, 
As sharp and piercing as a thistle. 

There may be charms in all their screech, 
And melodies perhaps (?) in each; 
But none so thrill my heart with joys 
As the glad whistle of the boys. 



188 B y S no o k 



IMPOSSIBLE. 

In ages past, when things were suitable, 
Creation dawned with laws immutable 

And then, as now, the facts of nature vied 
With men and nations who in concert cried, 
"Impossible !" 

They said a flood had never come, nor could; 

They cared not if the world were bad or good ; 
On what had been they only then relied, 

And to all thoughts of progress they replied, 
"Impossible." 

In thunder's roll or lightning's vivid glow 
They saw no friend, but only dreaded foe ; 

And if one dared to hint that it would pay 
To harness up the lightning, they would say, 
"Impossible." 

When later on from distant lands unseen 
One would return with trophies for a queen, 

There was a sound of pessimistic growl, 
That finally broke into a raging howl : 
"Impossible." 

With laws of mind and matter still the same 
The ways of navigation seemed too tame, 

And hissing steam put in a plea for speed, 

When sailing men sang out with doubt and greed 
"Impossible." 




LAKE OVERLOOK 



of Overlook 189 



Thus while the world in stupid halting stood 
Half wondering if they could believe, or should, 

Came telegraph and talking telephone, 
Then only timid ones could say, alone, 
"Impossible." 

While now, o'er earth and sea so large and bold 
We use the self same powers, made of old 

And sending wireless message where'er we may, 
There is not one, who now would dare to say, 
"Impossible." 

WATER'S BENEDICTION. 

Oh, waters of the rolling, boundless deep, 
We find in thee the arm of strength 
Of Him who said "Thus far thy bounds are set, 
No further shalt thou go." 

Oh, waters of the earth and sky, 
The laws peculiar to thyself alone 
Speak of a Mind Supreme, 
Who sent thee forth to bless the world 
And all that dwell therein. 

O, sparkling, shining dew-drops, 

Millions by many millions 

Scattered o'er the fields and plain : 

We cannot know thy numbers vast, 

But we can see in thee a love so great 

That it has stooped to bless 

The lowliest shrub and humblest flower. 



i9° B y S-no o k 



MY BOOK'S FUTURE. 

Some things as yet unseen, I see 
That thrill with visions sad and glad, 

A strange commingling it would seem 
Of happenings both good and bad. 

In distant sometime, yet to come — - 
I'd spare this picture if I could — 

My happiest thought with beauty fraught 
Doing some good as kindling wood. 

Some copies — O ! alas, I sigh, 

To pawn-shop they have found their way, 
Where for the price of one strong drink 

A hundred sprightly gems they'd pay. 

And yet — O! joy, I see again 

This self-same book on mission bent 

Thrilling some souls with hope anew, 
Lone, longing hearts with glad content. 

A volume on the shelf there lies 
Covered with dust — is it not sad? 

Waiting, yes, waiting words to say 

That might make gloomy ones more glad. 

Others, and many we assume, 

Pardon the thought — a wish you know, — 
Shall be as comrades in true homes 

Where growing minds still brighter grow. 



of Overlook 19 1 

h it too much, O! kindly friend, 

To see in vistas yet unknown, 
The happier imprints bound in verse 

Become companions of your own? 

And thus in musings of my soul, 
As down the track of time I look, 

I see the sad, the fearful fate — 
The glorious mission of my book. 

LOVE, CHARITY, GOOD-WILL. 

Love is the greatest thing, it's said, 

All others far transcending, 
The mildest and the strongest powers, 

Are ever in it blending. 

A little child is won by love, 

The strongest man surrenders, 
All nations bow before its touch 

And thus are its defenders. 

What love might do for me and you 

Is worth the while to ponder, 
In fitting us for life while here 

And in the world up yonder. 

Blest prize, this charity so sweet, 

This good-will ever cheering, 
May it in us be growing still 

The more and more endearing. 



i9 2 By Snook 

IN RESPONSE TO A TOAST 

"THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC." 

Ladies and Gentlemen , Young People and 
Children: 

This is a glorious sight for every loyal heart, 
Where bright eyed happy children take a part 

In patriotic song, with measured bars, 

And youth and beauty blend with stripes and stars. 

In behalf of W. P. Evart Post, and at their re- 
quest, I stand before you this evening. While I 
shall try to express some of the gladness of my 
heart for these kind acts of remembrance, I know I 
shall but faintly set forth the appreciation of every 
member of the order. 

As a society we want to thank those ladies who 
have so generously given of their time, aryd patience 
(if I may be allowed the expression) to make this 
occasion both pleasant and profitable to the veterans ; 
and to the young ladies, God bless them, and their 
commander who so kindly consented to undergo the 
bother of practice and the fatigue of marching to 
make this one of the grandest entertainments we 
ever saw, — a bewilderment of beauty, graceful 
movement, and precise maneuver. Having been 
myself drill seargent of the 22nd Michigan Infantry, 
at the foot of Lookout Mountain for some time, and 
having received high commendation for the same 
from Col Dean, I feel that I am in a position to 
appreciate and judge of this magnificant drill. So 
again we say thank you, one and all. 



of Overlook 193 



Who are these that are this evening being honored 
in song, in sentiment, and in kind actions by the 
patriotic of this beautiful village? Pardon me if 
in answering the question I speak more particularly 
to the young people, who heard not the alarms of 
war, saw not the great excitement and the terrible 
realities of those four dark years, when loyal hope 
for our country, or fear for the welfare of those who 
dared her honor, were of daily occurrence. We 
older ones know the awful realities of those days. 

Friends, thirty years ago today this broad beauti- 
ful United States was in a fearful state of alarm, 
such as you can never fully know. The South were 
forming companies and drilling, they were banish- 
ing postmasters and other officers of the govern- 
ment, the mails were being robbed, and the masses 
of the South not allowed to know the true condi- 
tion of things. Loyal ones of that section were be- 
ing persecuted and fleeing for their lives. Here in 
the North some said, war was really coming. 
Others said no, it cannot be possible that there are 
those in our own land who would tear this great 
beautiful republic to pieces. 

And thus the war clouds grew and became thicker 
and blacker. God grant that your eyes may never 
see such times, such partings, and such tears; such 
necessity for patriotic sacrifice, or ears be compelled 
to hear the news of loved ones slain or dying in 
the camp far, far from home and friends. 

I have not time now to speak of those years. Some 
of the boys returned, a few are with us yet, and we 
have pledged ourselves to Fraternity, Charity, and 
Loyalty. 



194 By Snook 

"Who are the G. A. R.'s," I heard one say 
Mongst children busy with their play, 
"And why they wear the badge and star 
And call themselves the G. A. R?" 

Oh! children in this happy land of ours 
Where peace and plenty fill its bowers, 
Tis well you ask the question now 
That you may know the why and how. 

There was a time not very long ago 
When trouble like a cloud was hovering low, 
A scheme by treacherous treason manned 
To spoil the blessings of our land. 

Then came a call for help for those who would, 
Twas from our country young, and bright, and good, 
For men to save our homes from rebel bands 
Our country's flag from traitors hands. 

These men who now wear badge and star 
Came forward then from near and far 
And said, if need be our young lives we'll give 
That our own blessed land may live. 

An army grand and great and true 
Of loyal men who wore the blue 
For the Republic's life they fought, 
Her honor and her peace they sought. 

They toiled through years of hardship and of pain, 
Marching through mud and sleeping in the rain, 
They climbed up mountains steep, and fought their 

way 
Through swamps and jungles till they gained the 

day. 



of Overlook 195 



Now, don't you see that <G would stand for grand, 
And A for army that had saved the land, 
R for Republic — now again a star, 
And all together G. A. R? 

Feb'y 5th 1891. 



GOOD MORNING. 

Before the dawn of early morn, 
We sometimes hear old chanticleer, 

With ringing voice of his own choice, 
Proclaim the day, not far away, 

The welcome, coming morning. 

Birds by the score a tribute pour, 

'Mongst earliest ray, their happier lay, 

Filling the ear of those who hear, 
With cheerful sound the world around, 
A musical good morning. 

Now dawning light dispels the night, 
While sun's bright ray brings in the day, 

Kissing the clouds in azure shrouds, 
Who, shy and coy, respond with joy, 

"Good morning, sir, good morning.' 

Soon we shall meet, and loved ones greet, 
First then to say, on the new day, 

Will be the word so often heard, 
Yet always new, and always true : 

"Good morning, Oh ! good morning. 



19 6 By Snook 



PHOTOGRAPHS. 

E'en pools of rain 

Reflect our form and face, 
As we pass by 

With hasty step or quiet grace. 
Nor do we know 

Or ever stop to prove, 
Their wondrous work 

Recording every look and move. 

The children's eyes 

Though small, but brighter far, 
As we pass by 

On homeward path or to the car, 
Are watching us, 

And it is strangely true, 
With eyes and minds 

They photograph us through and through. 

Have we not all 

Some pictures in our souls 
Of other days 

Printed on memory's rolls, 
From which we judged 

The actions and the life, 
Of fellow men 

In social walks or business strife? 

None to himself 

Can live alone they say, 
As we pass by, 

For good or ill to-day; 



of Overlook 197 

And thus we know 

In precept, or in careless laugh, 
A stamp is made 

Or taken as a photograph. 

HAPPY HOME SONGS. 

TO MY FATHER, WHO SANG IN HOME AND CHOIR 

FORTY YEARS. 

Oh, the happy songs of home, 

How they charm and cheer and brighten, 
Ever new, though sometimes old, 

How they cause the soul to lighten. 

Oh, the lovely songs of home, 

How they fill the heart with gladness, 

Causing it on wings to float, 

Thus forgetting care and sadness. 

Yes, the precious songs of home, 

Some so gay, and others tender, 
Patriotic, sacred songs, 

Such as only home folks render. 

And the dear old songs of home 

As they were long years ago, 
Those that stirred the loved ones then 

Sung around the hearth-fire's glow. 

Echoing through the passing years, 
Wherever we may chance to roam, 

Charmingly they thrill us still, 

Those truest, dearest songs of home. 



198 By Snook 



NUTTING PARTY. 

There's a spot in the clays of the autumn's blue haze, 

That beckons us back like no other, 
When we went for the nuts in the run-about-rig, — 

The children, myself and their mother. 

With baskets and bags, what a jolly gay load, 

Through the fields or the woods as we'd rather; 

No fun was more charming, we thought it but play, 
As the nuts from our own farm we'd gather. 

Like squirrels the blithe boys ascended the trees 
And, shaking the boughs without feigning, 

Brought a hail that we hailed with a shout of delight 
As walnuts or hickories came raining. 

Then a squabble ensued, 'mongst the nuts and the 
leaves, 

To see who'd first fill his basket, 
Which beat, did you say, in the scrabble for doges? 

Now that isn't fair, so don't ask it. 

We'd pause, now and then, to glance over the fields, 
Or at home where was left all our care, 

Or when asked to look quick by a roguish young 
chap 
At the great hawk that never was there. 



of Overlook 199 



When at last we were tired and hungry as bears 
We returned with our treasures a load, 

What a picture of rustling rustics we made 
For the people who traveled the road ! 

Now in scanning the past for the gayest and best, 
Oh ! where is the joy that's competing 

With those j oiliest outings on glad Overlook, 
As the nuts from our own trees we're eating? 



WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 

This is the time we greet the name of Washington, 
And, at the dawning of its earliest ray, 

Who would forget the why we celebrate 

The second month, the twenty-second day? 

Our fathers placed a wreath on his grand brow — 
It was in shape and name a whole round day — 

The richest token in their power to give, 
That all might stop and proper honors pay. 

He was and is the father of our land. 

No braver man, no truer, we admire; 
They called him "Father of His Country" then. 

Because no other title could be higher. 

Oh ! man of greatness, wisdom, truth, 

A friend of goodness, more than bribe and gold ; 
If we are true to "God and native land," 

Thv memory sacred we will ever hold. 



2oo By Snook 



FARMING NO. 2. 

There are two kinds of farming 
You may see in the. country, 
And here is the second 
Or number two kind ; 
Where the farm is a picture 
Of the ones who are farming. 
You have seen them, perhaps, 
Or have one in mind. 

This is the "tumble-down" style, 
With buildings neglected, 
And doors off the hinges 
And skylights galore ; 
With rail fences scattered, 
And gates badly battered, 
With weeds in the fields 
By thousands and more. 

See! the cows in the corn, 
Run quick to the rescue ; 
There are pigs in the clover, 
Get them out right away. 
They'll dig up the grass roots, 
Those pesky old porkers, 
With their ugly old snouts 
They'll spoil all the hay. 



of Overlook 201 

Now look ! the young cattle 
Have jumped the old fence, 
The sheep are still browsing 
From off the young trees; 
Those miserable chickens 
Are again in the garden 
The colts are at play 
In a patch of green peas. 

O dear, I'm so tired, 
And worried and flurried, 
In racing and chasing 
The whole wide farm o'er ; 
These wild, stubborn brutes, 
Why are they so breechy? 
I'll go back to the house 
And rest by the door. 

But, alas for my rest — 
The cat's on the table, 
The fire is out 
And my wife's gone away; 
The children are "squallin'," 
They say she's gone "callin'," 
"Now didn't I tell yer 
That farmin' don't pay?" 



2o2 By Snook 



MUST CORRESPOND. 

What shall I write about? 

Subjects have all skipped out, 
Or shyly hid in ambush low, 
And so perhaps we'll let them go, 
Or if you'd like an easy task 
You may a subject find at last. 

Now do you think it rude 

It should be in my mood, 
For times there are I sing in G, 
And then again in milder key ; 
There must be harmony of thought, 
And feeling in a poem wrought. 

When all about is noise 
Don't make the topic boys, 

Or when the days are wet and dark 

Choose not, I pray, the soaring lark; 

With feathers soaked he cannot fly, 

He cannot warble in the sky. 

And if it's on a day 
When wife has gone away, 
Don't make the theme of home life then 
For mood would not inspire the pen, 
More apt would be the doleful song 
Of, "Wonder why she stays so long?" 



of Overlook 203 



Speak not of old farm scenes 
When sheep are in the beans; 
Nor of the luscious, ripened fruit 
When howling winds shake tree and root, 
For poet's pen has never found 
Beauty in crushed fruit on the ground. 

Now what's your chosen theme? 

Or, are you in a dream 
Thinking perhaps I'm hard to please, 
That subjects are not found with ease, 
Or, has the truth upon you dawned 
That thought and mood must correspond? 



"WHICH?" 

Some people in this wide, wide world 
Are like these birds we often see, 

Known by the choice they make of things 
Where'er they go or chance to be. 

The humming bird seeks flowers and sweets, 

For else it has no time or taste, 
The crow for carrion, dead and old, 

With cawing, clamoring voice makes haste. 

So as you think the matter o'er, 
Please put your name upon the list ; 

How will you write it down, my friend, 
As optimist, or pessimist? 



204 By Snook 



A RUNAWAY OUTING. 

A* 'BUGGY" trip of some twenty-five miles 
with a younger sister, over hills and through 
dells, to the home of dear friends in the hill 
and lake country, was a summer outing fit for u 
king and queen, and I doubt if they ever enjoyed 
one so much, for we had no cares, no fears, no con- 
ventionalities. We were as free as the air, and as 
happy as the birds we saw along the way.- Our 
friends were found in as gay a mood as ourselves. 
Such walks, and talks and boatings. Such hills of 
huckleberries in the thin oak woods, covered thick 
with their black and green, such bathing in a long 
lake nearly surrounded by dense forests, and O, the 
fishing with its waiting and its wishing. The songs 
that we sang, how the woods fairly rang. The 
reviewing of the eventful past, and our exaggerated 
hopes for the future — bright, happy, wonderful 
days. But the good-bye came at last and we 
wended our way, * inquiringly, by unknown roads, 
homeward bound. When within some three miles 
of the "dearest spot on earth" we stopped for a short 
call on friends, and upon starting again our four- 
year-old, brown-black colt, Charley, became restless. 
Fully determined to have his own way, he dashed 
furiously down the plank road, then springing into 
the ditch on the right, proceeded to kick the thills 



of Overlook 205 



loose almost instantly, then whirling suddenly to 
the left the driver went headlong with him, till the 
firmly grasped hands forgot their hold, as the back 
of my head struck the plank on the opposite side 
of the road. What happened thereafter I know not, 
only as I have been told, till I awakened the next 
day and found a friend sitting by the bedside. Some 
people try to kill time! Well, I don't care to try it 
that way again, but its one way, and to make a 
long story short I was — 

Out of the buggy 

Out of my head 

Out of an outing 

Almost dead. 



SILVER DAY. 

Dark and cold the night had been, 
Covering all with ice-coat thin, 

But the sun's outbursting ray 
Changed it into silver day. 

Oh ! the glitter of the scene, 
Oh ! the sparkle and the sheen, 

Diamonds everywhere so bright, 
Sending forth the sun's glad light. 

Every twig, like monarch's throne 
Has fine diamonds of its own. 

Even weeds, in bright array, 
Glitter now on silver day. 



2o6 By Snook 



JUNE SUNRISE. 

Awake, dear friend, come forth, arise, be quick, 

There comes an entertainment unsurpassed, 
With music sweet and clear and grandest song, 
Roll out, make haste, come quick, ere it is past! 

To name it grand would be but all too mild, 
In charm of beauty none can higher soar ; 

In shades of light, or gold, or purple fringe, 
In shape and size, as large as all out-door. 

Come, let us to a higher point ascend 

Where's less to obstruct, and nature has full sway ; 
Hear now, the thousands in the concert join, 

Those feathered songsters in their morning lay. 

Have you known of a grandeur more grand, 
Have you heard a more rapturous tune, 

Than comes to the ears in the morning, 
As we gaze on a sunrise in June? 

See the light shining out of the night, 

Branching out in a thousand rays, 
With sky tints and cloud tints of beauty 

Till the sun crowns the whole with a blaze. 

The flowers by millions are smiling 

And with sparkling dew-drops compete; 

All the senses of body and mind, 
Here meet in a climax complete. 



of Overlook 207 

Had you thought how this grandeur and glory- 
Is a hundred times farther than sight? 

Had you thought how the dawn of the morning 
Is dispelling the darkness with light? 

Around the whole world it is going 
This brightest of heaven's great boon ; 

Aren't you glad we are here to enjoy it? 
This magnificent sun-rise in June? 

FLAGS AND MOUNTAINS. 

We love the mountains in their strength and beauty ; 

Unshaken by the winds and storms they stand, 
Lifting their heads in purer air and brighter, 

They catch the earliest day-dawn of the land. 

We love in men, that solid, strong endeavor. 

Which climbs toward higher, nobler, purer life. 
Their morning and their day is brighter, 

Their sunset golden as they rest from strife. 

Oh, men who dared to stand for right. 

For union and for liberty to all, 
You climbed the mountains in your might, 

So that our flag should never fall. 

Oh, soldiers brave and mountains grand, 

In memory you stand, sublime 
As monuments, o'er all our land. 

Throughout all time. 



2o8 By Snook 



WELCOME. 

DBlvIVKRKD AT A MFF/TlNG OF THE DF/fROlT AND 
BAY CITY COUNCIL, P. OF H. 

Of all the words that charm the ear and soul, 
No matter whence or where they come, 

None stimulate and thrill with ecstacy 
As does this dear word "Welcome. " 

When shown in actions true by those we love, 

This word becomes a giant strong, 
As large as visions of our wildest dreams, 

As soothing as the tenderest song. 

Kind friends your presence makes our hearts grow 
warm ; 

The gladness in your sparkling eye, 
And hand-shakes, prompted by a heart o'er flowing, 

Are pleasures we would not pass by. 

Then welcome all most cordially today; 

Please share this feast of mind with zest, 
We've placed it on the program here, 

And trust that you will do the rest. 

Then give us of your brightest thoughts and lore, 
Speak out and be the first to stand; 

Though short and crisp may be the utterance, 
Let each contribute to the program planned. 



of Overlook 209 



Speak out, we know not who awaits our voice, 
Knowledge may perish if concealed, 

And grandest opportunity itself be lost 
Without a helpful thought revealed. 

Then take, dear friends, this token of good will, 
For bubbling from our hearts t'will come, 

And from our actions you may know indeed 
That every one is now thrice welcome. 

THE EASTERN STAR. 

Of all the glittering lights that shine, 

There's one surpasses all by far; 
We know it by its purer light, 

It is the lovely Eastern Star. 
Gleam on, for tens of thousands know 

The happy gladness of thy glow. 

Thy worth the early shepherds knew, 
And wise men with their ways unknown 

Turned not aside or homeward went 
Till in their hearts thy light had shone. 

Gleam on, for millions yet shall know 
The happy gladness of thy glow. 

Those lessons, how they touch the heart, * 

Thy mystic points instruction give; 
If we within their influence come 

They teach us better how to live. 
Gleam on, for through bright years we'll know 

The happy gladness of thy glow. 



210 By Snook 

One at a time I'll catch their chime 
And dodge the boomerang of the rest, 

For from this memory mountain pile 
I only want the bright and best. 



SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHERS. 

We love the teachers of our land 

Who work where happy children meet, 

And patiently and tenderly 

Guide precious hearts and restless feet. 

They have their cares, these teachers true, 
But without earthly pay they go, 

And in the vineyard of the Lord 
They willingly the good seed sow. 

They sigh for rest, as others sigh, 
For quiet hours with books, alone, 

But at the Master's call they go 

Instructing children, not their own. 

That they, sometime, a crown shall wear 
No one would question for a while ; 

But, have we cheered them as we should 
With kindly word and friendly smile? 

Have they a token of our love, 
However small that token be, 

For all the blessed truths they've taught 
These children, dear, for you and me? 



of Overlook 211 



MEMORY'S ECHO MOUNTAIN. 

Like lovliest, sweetest wild bird songs 
As they in charms pi music roll, 

So happy thoughts come echoing back 
From memory's mountain in the soul. 

This mountain high, how large it is 
Built from the deeds and acts of yore, 

If each great stone should echo back 
There'd be a million sounds and more. 

On childhood sands the mountain stands, 
Our comic acts, our joys, our glee, 

Our questions queer unanswered yet, 
Brought thought fulness to you and me. 

In youthful days, aglow with fun 

And restless energetic plays, 
Great building blocks went up with ease 

'Mid cheer and loves of early days. 

In middle age, with strength of steel 
And business schemes and hopes so high, 

We toiled as if in pleasant dreams 

And reared the mountain t'ward the sky. 

And when the years are tinged with gray 
Some finer polished deeds we'll roll, 

More carefully, more cautiously, 
To cap the grandeur of the whole. 

If each should echo back at once 
Their various cords at you and me, 

Would it put music in the soul 
Or would it cause disharmony? 



2i 2 B y S n o o k 



LITTLE CHILDREN AND SPRING BIRDS. 

Oh ! where do they come from 
Those lovely spring birdies, 
So happy with songs, that 

We all love to hear, 
It surprises us children, 
Their sudden appearance, 
And where they all come from 

Is certainly queer. 

"They come out of the snow banks," 
Says John with a -flourish, 
"For when they're all melted 

The little birds come, 
And sometimes I wonder 
If I'd dig in the snow drifts, 
Down deep in the bottom 
If I wouldn't find some." 

But Arthur is doubtful 

'Bout birds under snow banks. 

He says in cold weather 

They'd all die and freeze. 
Lie is sure he can tell 
Where they live in the winter. 
For he's seen them come out 

Of holes in the trees. 



of Overlook 213 



Little Nellie says "No, 
I tan tell if I want to. 
They tome from that big cloud 

That we saw last night. 
For mama said it bursted, 
And I heard it myself. 
I'm sure they fell out, and 

Tome here to light." 

"And I know somefin more 

About little birdies. 

And I'm dowin' to be dood 

And not have those spells. 
Mama says if I'm bad 
And selfish and pouty, 
Somebody will know it, for 

A little bird tells." 

RURAL FREEDOM. 

If mind with nature would commune, 

The heart must also be in tune : 
Then woodlands wild would seem a prize 

And thoughts and rills would harmonize. 

If aspirations swell the breast, 

Excluding twaddle with its jest, 
Go forth and nature's lessons learn, 

'Twill give thy thoughts an upward turn. 

If petty cares seem hard to bear, 

Charing as fetters everywhere, 
Then what, I ask, has greater charm 

Than rural freedom on the farm? 



2i4 B y Snook 



THE POCKET-BOOK. 

The pocket-book question 
Has bothered me much/ 

Some times I'm without it 
And no friend in touch. 

Some time folks are chummy 
Cause they know I have one, 

And soak me too often 
To make it real fun. 

When carried around 
Just for others to use, 

They're apt my good nature 
To sadly abuse. 

And a full pocket-book 
Isn't good for a minute, 

Unless its increasing 
There's no money in it. 

Then if thinned to a shadow 
And I'm done to a brown, 

Seeming friends turn away 
With only a frown. 



of Overlook 215 



There's nothing so useless 
As an old empty wallet, 

A pocket-book — purse, 
Or whatever you call it. 

Don't you see if I'd kept 
What the pocket-book cost, 

The interest upon it 

Would not have been lost. 



THE PEACH IS QUEEN. 

They say the apple is the king of fruits, 
The first that's mentioned, and the first to grow, 

It may h've surpassed all others then 
I was not there, I do not know. 

They say their keeping qualities are good, 

For dainty pies the best thing grown, they teach ; 

I don't dispute the statement here, 
But in its time, give me the peach. 

O ! luscious, golden red-cheek beauties fair, 
Hanging 'mongst green leaves not beyond our 
reach, 
All experts would agree at once 

The queen of fruits is now the peach. 



216 By Snook 



MUSIC IN DISHES. 

There's music in the knife and fork, 

There's music in the dishes 
When hunger calls for prompt relief 

To satisfy its wishes. 

Chorus: 

There's music in the breakfast call 
That somehow charms us all. 

How soon as busy hours progress 

We sigh for more relief, 
We think of bread and butter now, 

Of chicken, ham, and beef. 

Chorus: 

There's music in the dinner call 
That somehow charms us all. 

And as we come toward evening, 

Our rest and chat to take, 
We think once more (how strange it is) 

Of tea and toast and cake. 

Chorus: 

There's music in the supper call 
That somehow charms us all. 



of Overlook 217 



And thus as busy days retire 
Or come our gaze to meet, 

There seems in all a strong desire 
For something more to eat. 

Chorus: 

That breakfast, dinner, supper call. 
It somehow charms us all. 



YOU, I AND WE. 

Who loves the bright spring 
And the birdies that sing 
More than I do ? 

And blithe babbling brooks, 
With their cute little nooks, 
More than you do? 

The blossoms that please 
As they sway in the breeze 
More than we do ? 

Or, loves the mild spring 
With its glad everything 

As you, land we do? 



2I8 B y S n o o k 



THANKSGIVING. 

Yearly a proclamation comes 

From nation's highest ruler sent, 

On theme of thankfulness, 
Signed by the president; 

Asking us all to meditate, 

That, scanning, we may clearly see 
'Mongst all God's gifts so great 

Why we should thankful be. 

Perhaps in listening we've left out 
Some little blessings — counted small, 

That dropped from memory's page, 
If they were there at all. 

The very air we breathe, 

Who gives it in such great supply? 
Is it a useless thing 

That we should pass it by? 

And sight and hearing, too, 

Shall they be added to the list ? 

Or in our yearly count 

Shall they, alas, be missed? 



of Overlook 219 

Hast thought, 'mong other things, 

Like as a happy soldier said 
On reaching home again, 

'Thank God, I have a bed." 

Too common, do you say ? 

O God of heaven, the thought forgive, 
Lest life itself might seem 

Too common a thing to live. 



A BALANCED LIFE. 

Who, but admires the balanced rock 

On pinnacle of slender form, 
Standing sublime in weather fair 

Or howling storm? 

And who, but loves a tree unique 

With equal boughs t'ward land and see 

Symmetrical and finely poised, 
A balanced tree? 

Yet, in a lovelier charm of grace, 

Calm, thankful, hopeful, free from strife, 

Steps forth and does its part, 
A balanced life. 



2 2o B y S n o o k 



PIONEER MEMORY PICTURES. 

HEAD AT OAKLAND COUNTY PIONEER MEETING, FEB. 

21st 1903. 

How preciously dear are the bright picture pages 
As we look through the book of the "Past long 
ago," 

They fill us with joy, those fond recollections, 
We carry them with us wherever we go. 

Would you like to look o'er them, beginning with 
childhood 
In those times when a day was as long as a year ; 
When a fond mother's smile and her gladsome ca- 
resses 
Filled the heart to o'erflowing, and banished all 
fear? 

Now here is a picture where brothers and sisters 

Are playing together in jubilant glee 
With dolls and with kittens, with lambs and small 
puppies 

The happiest children that ever could be. 

And here is another with father at evening, 

With children packed 'round him and one on his 
knee, 
They are singing the songs made for glad, happy 
children, 
Enjoying themselves on the rocking-settee. 



of Overlook 221 

So in turning the leaves of this book full of pictures, 
Some especially happy we cannot pass by ; 

They are ever before us, a part of our being, 

Their pleasurable memories bring them so nigh. 

Through the great wild south woods little Johnie 
and Mary 

Are going to school by the blaze on the trees, 
They fear not the forest, they just love its wildness, 

Two miles and a half are traveled with ease. 

How dear were those forests, large, tall, waving 
forests ! 
We loved in their thickets to wander and roam, 
They talked to our hearts, and their leaves ofteti 
whispered 
In accents of love like a welcome from home. 

♦ 

The wild flowers and blossoms, we ne'er can forget 
them, 
They nodded and laughed as they saw us at play : 
Oft crowned we the May Queen, with their fra- 
grance and beauty, 
The charm of their charming can ne'er pass away. 

We looked in the tree tops, just after the sun set, 
When a background of light was still lingering 
there 

And saw in their branches imaginative pictures, 
As wild as we've seen since those days anywhere; 



222 By Snook 

Saw peoples and steeples, and ships that seemed sail- 
ing, 
Saw mountains and valleys, perhaps we saw you, 
Saw elephants and camels, saw dogs and wild In- 
dians 
And most everything else that we had a mind to. 

Here's a picture of children out gathering wild 
nuts, 

With a dog in his harness now lying at rest ; 
The wheels of the wagon are all made of oak boards, 

The work of that wagon, the boy's very best. 

Wild turkeys came oft in the fields of my father ; 
The small boy rushed out with the shot-gun one 
day, 
At nine years the first turk he brought home for 
dinner ; 
My clothes were so tight that I hardly could play. 

There were times in those days when the work was 
all finished, 
As far as ourselves were concerned, anyway. 
When we, that's the children, the dog and the big 
sheep 
All went to the forest to frolic and play. 

And how we built houses of sticks and of mosses, 
And stuck the red berries the mosses among, 

To embellish its lawns, and brighten its doorways, 
You ne'er would have guessed it, unless you'v 
been young. 



of Overlook 223 

Then, not being content with a miniature play 

house, 

We found us a spot in the large maple's shade 

Where, after much thinking and planning and 

changing, 

The real foundations of a play house were laid. 

Never did children work harder than we worked; 

We cut all the brush and took it away, 
Trimmed up the yard trees, in front of the doorways 

Made roads through the forests and thought it 
but play. 

We scoured the woods for proper sized timber, 
For black-ash and bass-wood as straight as could 
be; 
With the big sheep and dog drew the poles for the 
play-house ; 
One corner stood firm on the roots of the tree. 

Six by eight was the house of pride and our pleas- 
ure, 

With door and with window, and fireplace too, 
With pole-fence around it so neat and well fastened 

And wood pile beside it to last the year through. 

The dinners the girls cooked in that little palace 
Of potatoes in ashes, and squirrel fried in smoke, 

Were the best of all dinners we ever had tasted, 
Now don't begin laughing and think it a joke. 

But the busy days came and the house was deserted, 
The crops must be gathered, the lessons be 
learned ; 

The winter came on and the snow piled around it 
No more on its hearth the fire-wood burned. 



224 By Snook 

The spring came at last with its sunshine and 
shadow, 

With its rains and its winds doing terrible harm, 
It blew down the maple it tore up its rootlets ; 

And scattered the playhouse, the joy of the farm. 

O that wonderful playhouse, that pioneer playhouse, 
So dear to my heart in bright memory's form, 

The children's own playhouse, so full of small trink- 
ets, 
That wonderful playhouse, the joy of the farm. 

A load for the market, the horses can't draw it 
The road is so muddy, it sure would be wrong, 

Boy comes with the oxen and riding old Brindle 
The gay teams start up and the wheels move 
along. 

O Brindle, kind Brindle, plump, true, and tried 
Brindle ! 
O'er bad roads galore you have carried us 
through ; 
If ever a pioneer boy loved his oxen 

Then surely I had such a right to love you. 

The trees of the place were oak, hickory and white- 
„ wood, 
Ash, elm, and bass-wood, birch, maple, and beecH, 
With sycamore, ironwood, poplar, and cherry, 
But the bark of the dog-wood was their only 
speech. 



of Overlook 225 

And the skeeters of those days so large and so lively 
Like the hum of the bees or the roar of the mill ! 

We slapped them, we smoked them, tried in vain to 
elude them, 
They were ever presenting" their own little bill. 

The children were told that mosquitos were dog- 
like, 
And they'd stop in their racket and listen and 
hark; 
To hear those mosquitos, those giant mosquitos, 
Who certainly did climb the big trees and bark. 

See the boys 'mongst the stumps, they are hoeing 
potatoes 
Or driving old Bob through the straight rows of 
corn ; 
Do you think they are hungry, just see them ske- 
daddle 
At the sound of the signal, — the old dinner horn ! 

There were chores in the morning and chores in the 
evening ; 
We loved the young colties, the cattle and sheep. 
We liked to do chores, but sometimes they would 
call us 
Too early we thought from our snug little 
sleep. 

Have you heard of the Ridge, so wild and so woody, 
Where we lunched with our friends, with the best 

of good cheer 
With its wintergreen carpet, its partridge and hawk's 

nest? 
A day on the Ridge was the treat of the year. 



226 B y S no o k 



Or the wild horseback rides, for cows that had wan- 
dered 
And for colts that had strayed for miles far away, 
Or with friends who had come from village or 
country 
To ride upon horse-back at close of the day ? 

And skating*, O dear, how the boys did like skating, 
Or drawing the girls on the sled or the cart, 

I hardly know which came the nearest to breaking 
The head that was bumped or the half-smitten 
heart. 

Once crossing a bridge that spanned the old Clinton, 
A deer with large horns rushed out and away ; 

My brother and I sprang forth from the wagon 
And chased the wild beauty along the highway. 

We were nimble of foot and his front leg was broken 
By a shot he'd received from some hunter that 
day; 

In a hundred rod-race we closely pursued him 
When he stumbled and fell to his utter dismay. 

I was instantly on him, being older than brother, 
And with foot on his horn and knee on his neck 

He tried but in vain, for a pioneer jack-knife 
Soon changed him to venison, in spite of his kick. 

The old lumber wagon with all of us in it 

On Sundays we journeyed to church far away. 



of Overlook 227 



We talked of the trees, of squirrels, and of flowers 
And heard the wild birds sing their happiest lay. 

Once, on Sunday, of course, as to church we were 
going 

Six deer and a wee one were crossing a stream, 
They seemed not afraid, those slickest of beauties, 

Though but a short distance in front of our team. 

The church of our youth and the friends who at- 
tended, 
The good pastor too, and the service of song, 
Those bright Sabbath hours, and the Sunday- 
school classes, 
They hallowed our days as the years passed along. 

And those glad afternoons, and the long Sunday 
evenings 

With stories uplifting and poetry sublime, 
Read by Mother betimes as we rested from singing. 

Was not that a good way to fill up the time? 

O, the songs that we sang with father to lead us 
In soprano, or tenor, with voice clear and strong 

With the soft violin and the violin-cello 

And the girls' happy voices to help us along. 

How sweet to our taste was the fine maple sugar 
Made out in the north wood in those youthful 
days, 
Of sap from the trees of the hard and soft maple, 
Boiled down in a kettle 'mongst a roaring hot 
blaze. 



228 By Snook 

How warm were those fires, how sweet was the 
syrup, 
How jerky the jerk- jaw we cooled on the snow, 
And how pleasant with friends to eat the warm 
sugar, 
Unless you have tried it you never could know. 

Among other game there were coons in the forests, 
With fur of the softest, ring-streaked and brown ; 

While stealing the corn-ears by moonlight we 
caught them 
And sent their furs off to the store in the town. 

We caught one sly elf by the toes in a steel trap, 
Took him home for the children to see and ad- 
mire; 
He chewed up our nice cage, and left without 
warning ; 
For another pet coon we had no desire. 

Once, when slying along, twixt the corn and the 
stubble, 

With the dog by the nape of the neck, and alone, 
I let Leo go through the pumpkin and corn field, 

To stir up the varmints and scare out the coon. 

The dog barked with vigor and ran to the left-ward, 
Where two coons up a small tree he had for his 
share, 
But Bruin came loping close by in the moonlight 
And left me there standing, more scared than the 
bear, 



of Overlook 229 

Once witH compass and gun, as I went through the 
north wood 
To call on a neighbor, — or daughter maybe! 
I brought down a wild turk, took it along for their 
dinner. 
Do you think she admired the turkey or me ? 

We boys made a teeter for getting up higher, 
It was thirty feet long, and high enough too, 

With large wooden stakes on the ends for a saddle 
How glad we all were when 'twas finished and 
through. 

High up went the one end, and down went the other 
O wasn't it jolly to fly high like that? 

A saddle-pin broke and rolled off a companion 
And down came the other poor victim ca-spat. 



You have looked at the pictures; they're as true as 
4 'the preaching;" 

I took them myself with my "Kodak" so true, 
And printed them here on these memory pages, 

For dear loving friends, for myself, and for you. 

Come back, O come back, brightest days of my 
childhood, 
Come back, cheer my heart 'mongst the racket 
and din, 
Of this world's busy life, its pleasures and duties, 
Come back to my soul, O! come back and come 
in! 



230 By Snook 



A NEW SONG. 

There is a new song in our time, 
With quickened beat and rapid rhyme 
Filling the world and all of space, 
That's heard and sung in every place; 
'Tis hurry, hurry, hurry. 

The business man now hears the song 
And news boys carry it along; 
While those who in the morning rise, 
With hardly time to rub their eyes, 
Hear hurry, hurry, hurry. 

Machinery wheels are not content, 
Fearing their time is not well spent 
Unless their hum of motion live, 
And thus a song they ever give, 
Of hurry, hurry, hurry. 

If trolley car you wish to take 
For public good or pleasure's sake; 
And whether fast or whether slow 
As in you get or out you go, 
'Tis hurry, hurry, hurry. 

And creditors with harshest voice 
Start up this song as if by choice, 
For in their bills you'll hear them say : 
Without delay we want our pay, 
And hurry, hurry, hurry. 



of Overlook 231 



We cannot pause to talk with friend, 
Our hopes and griefs with his to blend, 
Or neighbors greet with words of cheer, 
But we are sure to feel or hear 
That hurry, hurry, hurry. 

"What is the old world coming to?" 
Would furnish thought for me and you, 
If we had time to stop our biz 
And think among the din and whiz 
Of hurry, hurry, hurry. 



Who rings the chime of happy thought, 
Dressed in bright garb with beauty fraught, 
Is sure to cause in some a smile 
That crafty cunning can't beguile. 



232 By Snook 



INK CHARMS. 

There's a curious thing 

You might like to know, 
As to how thoughts are changed 

When through ink charms they flow. 

Running down through the arm 

Gliding off of the pen, 
Through a mesmerized ink 

And alighting again. 

On a page, snowy white, 

Showing somber or pink, 
According to charmings 

Put into the ink. 

Making verses more versy 
And prose some less prosy, 

With chimings more charming 
And roses more rosy. 

Take ink to magician 

Have it mystified rightly, 
Then the thoughts from your pen 

Will somehow — seem sprightly. 

Just here for example 

You'd know what kind of inks 
Enveloped my pen, 

As I "thunk" off these thinks. 



of Overlook 233 



STARS AND STRIPES. 

The Stars and Stripes, — Oh! cur joy and our pride; 

There's room in our hearts for no other beside! 
Its beckoning folds over sea and o'er land 

Inspire into action the thought and the hand. 

We love it, we love it, the flag of the free, 

For it waves a glad welcome to you and to me! 

A symbol it is for the brightest and best, 

And stands for a nation the great God has blessed, 

Its bright stars of hope, with glad stripes unfurled, 
Receive adoration all over the world. 

We love it, we love it, the flag of the free, 
For it waves a glad welcome to you and to me! 

It welcomes the brave, while it heralds the good, 
And stands for the right as it ever has stood ; 

O'er homes let it wave, over schools float on high, 
It cheers, as we cheer, waving there in the sky. 

We love it, we love it, the flag of the free, 
It's the glorious emblem for you and for me! 



234 By Snook 



NEW YEAR CALLS IN NEW YORK. 

IN those days the "upper tens" afterwards desig- 
nated the "four hundred," made those calls 
the very first thing of the year, and why not, 
being on the first day ? 

Good resolutions were more secure if made about 
half past eleven, p. m. That "Plug Hat," escorted 
by a genial young man relative, found the custom 
in brief something like this. In the early morning 
the ladies of the homes spread their tables, ladened 
with all that could tempt eye or taste, in their par- 
lors, while the rooms as well as themselves were 
decorated with everything that pocketbook would 
allow, or skill and art could devise. And from ten 
a. m. to twelve p. m. they were ready to welcome 
and entertain any friend or acquaintance, or his 
friend, if brought along. Every guest was expected 
to drink, or eat something at least, even if it be 
nothing more than candies, nuts, or fruits. Excuses 
of "too full for utterance" would not avail at our 
table, "you must eat with us." Our circuit was 
from Brooklyn to Central Park, and the calls were 
necessarily very short, and generally very sweet with 
smiles, but if the smiles lacked in that important 
element, candy in a measure supplied the deficiency. 
The "Plug Hat" reflected many a kodak picture, as 
the greetings, or the good -by, come-agains were 
said. It was a great day for the hat, and if found it 
might tell some curious stories. 



of Overlook 235 



THE FARMERS' INSTITUTE. 

written for and delivered at oakland county 
farmers' institute at pontiac, february 
17th and 18th, 1904. 

There was an entertaining show 

Not very long ago ; 
They called it a Farmers' Institute 

And it was fine and cute. 

Farmers by scores in rows and rows, 

Dressed in their finest clothes, 
Mixed with the town folks great and small 

Who filled a good-sized hall. 

Old folks with sparkling eyes were there 

Showing the silver in their hair, 
Who'd take a joke with as keen a zest 

As any of the rest. 

Strong men who scorn the lighter loads 

On easier, smoother roads, 
Whose very rugged mien invite 

The business world to fight. 

And mothers who had banished care 

Wore lovely smiles while there, 
To speak of flowers and talk of pies, 

Or even criticise. 



236 By Snook 



The gigling girls with their first beaux 
Were talking, "Ohs," "Yeses," "Noes." 

Till many wondered if she and Billy 
Were ever half so silly. 

On rostrum sat the speakers grand 

The best in all the land, 
With singers and musicians neat 

Looking so very sweet. 

Then came a sound by gavel sent 

From our own president, 
Followed by waves that rolled along 

In patriotic song. 

A welcome that we all could feel, 

With eloquent appeal, 
Came from the manager serene 

That was both pert and keen. 

The speakers oft he'd introduce, 

Who made their own excuse, 
And then with pointed thought and clear 

Struck audience in the ear. 

Till from the fierceness of attack 
Some brave ones answered back. 

And thus commenced in wordy fray 
The battle of the day. 

Thoughts, words, and arguments came thick, 

That wounded to the quick, 
Pet theories, and notions many 

Were found not worth a penny. 



of Overlook 237 



The all convincing lessons taught 
Were oft with thunder fraught, 

And, bounding back, struck me and you 
As boomerangs often do. 

But when the storm had passed away 

There was a brighter day. 
And differences of age and youth 

Gave place to golden truth. 

Better than circus, I repeat, 
With such live folks to meet, 

There's fun and profit, none dispute, 
In a Farmer's Institute. 



Grandeur only makes the grand 
On the ocean or the land ; 
Goodness only makes the good, 
Shining steady as it should. 



The shiney ones we surely like 
But can't endure the blowy. 

Prepare for rainy days they say 
But seldom speak of snowy, 



238 By Snook 



CUCKOO CLOCK. 

On a spike in the wall 

Hangs the cuckoo clock, 
With its hands so white and surface browned. 

Tick, tick you can hear 

As it points all day 
To the ivory figures its face around. 

How odd it seems 

With its dangling chains, 
And weights of iron, both hanging down, 

But the time you may know 

If you look aright 
For this old clock is the best in town. 

Then that spry little bird 

From its perch inside, 
How suddenly quick he darts out, 

Singing and bobbing his head 

When the hour is done, 
Then back before you know what he's about. 

We have gazed many times 

At your antics queer, 
But at parting must bid you adieu ; 

You have caused the children 

Many a laugh, 
You comical sprightly young cuckoo ! 



of Overlook 239 



THE MEANEST THING. 

Of all the things that mar and blight, 
Filling the soul with narrowness, 

There's none so small and base and vile, 
There's none so mean as selfishness. 

'Twould dwell in neighborhood that's good. 

Wants home in best society, 
For it would give a useless life. 

Now is that true propriety ? 

Wants their own children with the true, 
But others lure with oath and jest, 

Give not of means, or time, or thought, 
For things they know are right and best. 

They want kind words from noble hearts, 

Desire others them to bless, 
And in return would only give 

The meanest thing, their selfishness. 

Is there no hope from such a plight? 

Yes, fill the thought with kindness true, 
And dealing with our fellow-men 

Do as you'd have them do to you. 



240 By Snook 



CHURCH UNITY. 

Here's thought, dear friends, let's talk it o'er; 
Is there no better thing in store 
For us in this short, fleeting life 
Than to forever be at strife ? 

We all accept the corner stones; 
About these truths we pick no bones ; 
Can we not strength in union see. 
Letting the non-essentials be? 

What business have these little isms 
To enter in and foster schisms? 
Like rats they gnaw the good-will out, 
Spreading contagion all about. 

The Master prayed, we should be one; 
Shall we not say, "Thy will be done," 
And stand united as we should, 
Being more kind, doing more good? 

Of these small churches shall we make 
A church for Christ — not for our sake — 
With wider doors and isles more broad 
Where all may come and worship God? 

Where organ, piped to grand refrain, 
Shall lead all hearts to higher plane, 
And all the bells, now made in one, 
Send gladder sounds that farther run. 



of Overlook 241 



Our creeds, you say, our idols dear? 
Hide them away — but to the cheer, 
The angels brought, all say "amen," 
"Glory to God, good will to men." 



THE THREAD OF LIFE. 

The thread of life has many a comic kink, 

And some, that's just a trifle serious we know; 

Has lassoing loops, that catch and stop our work 
'Tis curious how it crinkles, as we sew. 

This mystic thread, so wonderful indeed, 
With no beginning and no certain end ; 

And yet somehow with needle of the right 
All broken ways, if wise, we'll try to mend. 

While in the shuttle of our inmost soul, 
'Tis weaving patterns of a thousand styles, 

From wandering thoughts we harbor in the mind, 
Resulting largely in our frowns or smiles. 



242 By Snook 



EXCUSES. 

Excuses fill the air, 
In some parts of creation, 
Others excuse that fault 
In this our Yankee nation. 

Some hire carpenters, 
To build excuses daily, 
And they excuse themselves, 
Doing the job up gayly. 

But pshaw! why pay these men; 

We all can make excuses, 

But some can't do it slick, 

So folks won't think them gooses. 

I've thought a good machine, 
With proper combination, 
Might make them thick enough 
To hide equivocation. 

Our slimsy, gousy kinds 
To thin the preparation — 
They look right through and read 
The words, "no inclination." 

Excuse these lines, my friend, 
No harm is here intended, 
The less excuse is made. 
The sooner 'twill be mended. 



of Overlook 243 



THE COUNTRY SCHOOL TEACHER. 

TO be commander-in-chief, superintendent, 
principal, assistant, and primary at the same 
time, of a school of fifty-seven scholars, ranging in 
age from five to twenty-two, seven of whom were 
older than myself* and some, possibly further ad- 
vanced in studies, might seem an easy, pleasant task 
for a youth of eighteen. And it was pleasant in 
some ways, for I almost loved the pupils, from the 
little tots to the young men, and perhaps even the 
young ladies. Choice of text-books was optional 
with scholars and parents. There were three classes 
in as many kinds of arithmetics, besides primary, 
intellectual and Davis University, and other studies 
in about the same proportion. A cordial but quiet 
"Good-morning" was exchanged between pupil and 
teacher, as they each morning entered the school 
house. All went nicely for some weeks; and only 
chiding, admonition or praise was resorted to in gov- 
ernment. The confusion of books was so far re- 
duced and systematized that an average of ten min- 
utes was allowed to each class. Rebellion first broke 
out with a boy eleven or twelve years old ; he seemed 
to be perfectly proof against argument, persuasion, 
or eloquence, and corporal conviction was finally 
resorted to in almost daily doses. One day he was 
absent, and the next morning, before school it was 
whispered around, and finally came to my ears that 
his father was going to give me a horse-whipping. 
An hour after the arrival of the boy, I heard a loud 
knock at the door, and on opening it, saw a man at 
least a third heavier than myself with a six-foot whip 
in his hand. I said "Good-morning, sir ;" he said in 
loud, excited German voice, "Mine name ish Miller." 



244 B y S no o k 

I said ''Come in, Mr. Miller," and at once gave him 
a chair. He took it reluctantly, and I handed him a 
recitation book and went on hearing classes. Not a 
word passed between us for thirty or forty minutes. 
I was very busy with my school and thoughts. Sud- 
denly he sprang to his feet, and slaming the but of 
his whip on the floor, and with excited ejaculations, 
shouted, as he stamped his foot, energetically swing- 
ing his arm he said, "Mr. Snook, if mine *poy' don't 
mind I vant you to lick him — Good-by." If that 
scene could have been kodaked and graphophoned 
what good it might have done in the other country 
schools. 

Several weeks passed pleasantly, if hard work 
and hopeful appreciation means pleasure, when the 
director's son, a stout, chunky lad of sixteen, began 
to foolishly think, as big boys do sometimes, I am 
sorry to say, that he could run the teacher and school, 
as he had the previous winter, till the school was 
broken up. Finally one day he positively refused to 
comply with my orders, and after school as I tried 
to reason with him, he said "No, sir," if you want 
anything of me, just jump right on." I held myself, 
for I had been studying that art for two or three 
years. I said, "You have insulted the school and 
the district; I will settle with you tomorrow before 
the school." Things were looking serious, and as 
there were several young men in the school, there 
was no telling what course things would take. The 
next morning very early, I wallowed through the 
snow about a mile and a half to see his father, the 
director, and his mother. 

The walk gave me time for thought, and on ar- 
riving I was filled with a calm, determined eloquence. 
After stating the case, I said, "Your son (and he 



of Overlook 245 

was an only son) must apologize before the school, 
or take a whipping, or leave the school." His father 
answered, "If you can do anything with him do it, 
I can't." I urged them to drive over and see if it 
was properly done, and whether I could govern the 
school or not. They would not promise. I said "I 
will wait an hour after the schools opens." Often 
since have I wondered at my confidence in my own 
ability. Going back, on passing a forest along the 
roadside, I cut two good tough blue-beach "gads" 
and on reaching the school house annealed them in 
the long box stove, then placed them behind the 
black-board. By and by the pupils commenced to 
arrive, and the school went on as usual for an hour ; 
not an officer or parent had put in an appearance. I 
said to the school, "Everyone put up your books ; we 
have a matter this morning of more importance than 
books." When all was quiet, I said, "Your parents 
have provided this building, and warmed it; have 
furnished money to pay me for coming here to 
govern and teach this school. I will leave it to any- 
one here, if I have not met you in a spirit of friend- 
ship and good-will. Your parents board, clothe and 
furnish you with books, they do your work, and 
work for you while you are here. Have I not 
patiently and energetically done my part? Anyone 
can see that we must have order and obedience here, 
in order to study and learn. No one should deprive 
others of their rights and privileges. We must have 
order and obedience, we will have it." I stated the 
young man's case frankly and calmly, and I gave 
him the alternatives mentioned above. To my sur- 
prise, and joy, he arose and said in clear unmistaka- 
ble tones, "I did wrong, am sorry I was so foolish, 
and I apologize for it." I said, "Thank you. Now 



246 By Snook 

everyone take your books." Not another word fol- 
lowed on the subject. I had gained not only a friend 
but the good will of nearly all present. The school 
moved on finely, and my ability to govern that school 
was forever settled in the minds of pupils and dis- 
trict, and they tried to contract for the following 
winter. The next summer James and his younger 
sister rode seven miles on horseback to spend the 
day with me at the home of my parents. 



WEATHER EFFECT. 

Some days are bright and happy like, 

But this is damp and foggy, 
Sometimes my mind is thus inclined ; 

Just now 'tis dull and soggy. 

You'd better call around, my friend, 

When I no trouble borrow ; 
When skies are clear and full of cheer — 

Some time — perhaps tomorrow. 

But, hold ! the clouds are breaking now ; 

My heart seems somehow lighter; 
Come in, come in, and stay a while, 

And make the day still brighter. 

Say ! isn't it strange that weather's change 
Should so effect our thinking, - 

That we should sip from crystal springs 
Or be from stale pools drinking? 



of Overlook 247 

WHO MADE THIS BOOK. 
(dedicated to all the helpers.) 

More pages than this book contains 

'Twould take to tell the story, 
And give the names of all who've toiled 

To give the volume glory. 

The author who conceived the thoughts, 

Or placed in bouquets sweetly, 
Might claim the lion's share perhaps, 

Thinking he did it neatly. 

But there are thousands more or less, 
Who's charm we might be losing, 

Had not their skillful touch or thought" 
Made it worth-while perusing. 

Electric powers of magic skill 
Have known the book you're holding, 

And in a hundred little ways 
All had their share in moulding. 

Yet we will not exalt the steel 

But praise the great inventors ; 
Useless machines without skilled minds 

Run by the careful printers. 

Then thanks to all, both great and small, 

A blessing we're repeating, 
For thoughts and acts of every kind 

That helped in its completing. 



248 By Snook 



THE MONTHS OF THE YEAR. 

January's first on the list 

With a Happy New Year to all ; 

Resolve to do better we must 

Then thawing, and 'praps a snow squall. 

February is snow bank month 

Get the shovel and dig out the road, 

Do the chores, read, visit, and plan, 
Or enjoy the jolly sleigh load. 

March is a wild windy wizard 

With flurries, sunshine, and snow, 

With fine maple-sugar to eat, 

And then to the house cleaning go. 

April accept now our welcome 

Thy showers bring lovely May flowers, 
The birds how they sing as of old, 

Much work and some play fills the hours. 

May with its blossoms of beauty 
So different from winter it seems, 

We plow and we sow, plant, and hoe, 
And rejoice in the soft sun beams. 

June brightest and best of the lot, 

Your foliage of green charms our eyes, 

We pause and look at the landscape 
And sometimes we see the sun rise. 



of Overlook 249 



July has a day called the fourth, 

And there's work in the harvest and hay, 
Berries to pick, a swim in the creek, 

And really not much time for play. 

August, Oh how tired we are ! 

So sultry, hot, dry, and hazy! 
Excursions and picnics the rage, 

Oh ! dear, trier's no rest for the lazy ! 

September, fill silo, cut corn, 

Sow wheat and gather the beans, 

Pick peaches, grapes, apples, and plums, 
Tend the grange and club by all means. 

October, now comes the light frosts, 
The wood-lands how lovely and gay ! 

Potatoes and beets to secure, 
And pop-corn to stow away. 

November we nutting will go 

Draw corn, thresh it out, and get wood 
Thanksgiving, when all's finished up, 

Snug-buildings, 'twill pay, do it good. 

December, how short are the days, 
And the nights a mere nothing too, 

Now comes merry Christmas to all 
Good old year we bid you adieu. 



250 By Snook 



COME AND GONE. 

See the trolley as it flyeth 
Through the land so fast, 

Up hill, down hill as it glideth, 
Soon tis come and past. 

See the pole that reaches upward, 
For its strength to move, 

And the sparkle from its topnot 
Doth that power prove. 



THAT PIONEER FENCE. 

MY first recollection of an "outing" was when 
about three years of age, I left a fond mother 
watching in the cabin door, and with tiny pail in 
hand, I started with a drink for my father, who was 
building a new frame house for us some twenty rods 
distant. What high and varied emotions filled that 
loving mother's breast, as she saw her first and then 
only son starting out in life for the first time. Would 
that journey be prophetic? Would its success or fail- 
ure be a harbinger of the coming years ? She was a 
great reader of poetry and story, and we dare not 
undertake to depict the flights of her imagination 
But alas for human hopes! A pioneer fence of small 
logs and larger spaces crossed the path, and in climb- 
ing through I, childlike, fell and spilled the pail's 
precious contents. The recollection of that "spill" 
and fence is the earliest of my memories. 



of Overlook 251 



THE ACADEMY. 

HAVING no school in our secluded neighbor- 
hood, except that taught by a private teacher 
for a few months, and the home instructions for 
which I shall never cease to be grateful, J was sent 
for a winter's term to an academy some miles away, 
with a chance to work for my board at the home of 
the principal. 

The institution was crowded, and two boys who 
afterwards became my chums, were fortunately or 
otherwise, seated with me at a desk meant only for 
two. Once the instructor rapped order and said 
pointing to us, "I think I shall have to set those 
small boys apart." It cut like a knife, and we tried 
harder not to act natural. One of my friends was 
fortunate in having a half dozen sisters who were 
good singers, and I loved singing. So he invited me 
to their home. After everything was secure for the 
night I told the lady of the house that I was going 
out to spend the evening. She said she should lock 
the doors at ten o'clock, as that was their time for 
retiring. That wonderfully happy evening with a 
mile's walk through the snow, made it nearly eleven 
before I returned and cautiously tried the doors, and 
finally a kitchen window, some three feet from the 
snow path. All were fastened. Imagine my feelings 
— out in the darkness, out in the snow, out in the 
winter, and no place to go. But with persistence the 
rustic fastening gave way, and carefully lifting the 



252 B y S no ok 



sash I crowded in, fastening it as before and reached 
my room unheard. Somehow they were up first, and 
my inning was a two days' mystery and joke, till 
someone noticed my track between path and window. 
At the academy I certainly gained some new 
thoughts and experiences in regard to matters and 
things generally, and was at least thoroughly im- 
pressed with the fact that education was something 
large, and that I, as yet, had gained but a very small 
part of it. Attachments were formed which still 
remain, and alas! others that remain dear only in 
memory. Those memory pictures ? Have we not all 
been made April-like with their tear drops and sun- 
shine ? 



of Overlook 253 



FAREWELL, DEAR FRIEND. 

Then fare you well, my friend, 

We've talked of scenes along the way ; 

Viewed mountains grand, with landscapes fair, 
And thus enjoyed the day; 

Conversed in happy strains 

Of much that's best in man or earth; 
Of music, and of ringing bells 
While sitting by the hearth ; 

Of how the mind doth grow, 

How each uplifting noble thought, 

In gliding by its sacred shrine, 
Tends toward an action wrought; 

Have caught a glimpse perhaps, 
Of truth, not told by written signs, 

Helpful maybe, though peeping shy 
From out the rustic vines. 

Or, scanned with sparkling eye, 

A score of interesting themes, 
Filling the soul with loveliness 

As if in pleasant dreams. 

Now if you think it best, 

Or fondest fancy so inclines, 
Come back, dear friend, another day 

For thoughts between the lines. 



JUL 20 190? 



ffi. ARY 0F CONGRESS 



018 360 188 A 



I 



